From Ashes
by Glimare
Summary: Dick is free from Slade after four years as his apprentice, but after learning his friends were free of the probes nearly the entire time he was doing crimes in their names, he starts shutting down. Recovery seems impossible when he can't face his mentor or friends. But for some reason the third Robin is easier to talk to. Sequel to 'Dead Inside'.
1. All For Nothing

**Disclaimer:** No character ownership or profits here! move along lawyer man!

Sequel to 'Dead Inside'. Takes place directly after it so you better have read it first! s/8770276/1/Dead-Inside This is not for the faint of heart and it'll have some action, but the truth is this is all about recovery. So it's full of fluff. This is also still in the process of being written and edited, so it'll take longer between updates. But I did promise people who asked that I'd start posting around Christmas. So... Merry Christmas! This will be the only A/N until the end. Catch ya later! *goes back to marathon and projects*

* * *

**From Ashes**

It wasn't the usual bedding. That was what he first noticed. It was far too comfortable and yet practical. The place he was sleeping in was cool and mildly humid. He could hear a familiar screeching along with many humming machines. The place echoed as well. It smelled of stones and mud. A cave.

_His_ cave.

Instantly his eyes shot open, looking straight to the covered ceiling of the cave's medical bay. His favorite butler had insisted this part be sanitary at all times to prevent infections, yet he didn't mind the flaw in the cover he put there when the three of them put it up. It was still there.

He was home. Why? How?

For a minute he reviewed what had happened before he passed out in his mind. They were at the opening of a new courthouse. He was supposed to kill Mayor Krol, but Two-Face had attacked that evening as well. He and Master had jumped into the chaos to get their target at long last, taking down most of the thugs before _those_ two appeared. He personally took down Two-Face, letting him live out of habit while his teachers fought. He was going to kill Krol, ready to end the job and disappear again like the nothing he was, but Master told _him_ he was going to take the new Robin as well.

And he snapped.

He couldn't remember exactly how he fought the man, but he had, leaving him a bloody mess. His ultimate successor had stopped him, and then _he_ told him it was over. It was over. Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, was done, gone from his life. He beat him, defeated him almost perfectly. He had the trigger and the man was going to prison. They were safe. They were all safe. At last.

'_How long has it been?_' Idly, the former boy wonder tried to recall exactly how much time had passed since he was free to make his own choices. _He_ had said a number before, but he couldn't recall it. His memory was shaky these days, entirely on purpose. He had to protect a lot of people's identities and secrets over the years. '_Am I really free?_'

A thought struck him and he jerked upright. '_The Titans!_' He had the trigger! He could free them now! He had to—

"Dick!" His sudden movements had attracted the attention of three males of varying ages. Dick made a point not to look at any of them as the older two swamped him, the boy looking anxious to join in but holding back for some reason. Questions and orders immediately spilled from their lips.

"Are you okay?"

"What are you doing up young man?!"

"You passed out so suddenly… Are there any injuries we don't know about?"

"Lay back down and get some rest! You're in no condition to be running around!"

"Is there anything you need?"

"What did that beast do to you?"

"I need to get to Jump." He tried to push past the two who had raised him, but stumbled as he put his feet on the ground. His head was swimming at the sudden movement. When did his legs lose all their strength? Instantly, two sets of arms wrapped around him, supported him, gently forcing him back to the medical bed.

"I don't think so young man!"

"They're in danger. They don't know—"

"If it's about those probes," _he_ started, "they were taken care of years ago."

Dick jerked his head around, gaping at _him_ in shock. "What?"

_He_ sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he started to explain. "Four years ago, when you broke into Wayne Enterprises in Jump, you had a fight on the roof. I saw the footage and went there two days after. You weren't picking up your cell or com. The Titans did full workups on their own and found out about the probes in their blood twelve hours after your fight. They tried to find you by backtracking the signal that day, but when they arrived at the haunt, you were gone. We exchanged information and I introduced them to Ray Palmer, the Atom. He was the one Wilson stole the nanoprobe technology from. Ray removed it that week.

"They've been safe for four years. Slade just made you believe they were in danger this entire time."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks. All these years…taking every blow… committing every crime… learning how to kill…and all in the name of saving lives already saved… useless. He willingly suffered for nothing.

All at once he crumbled, nearly falling to the floor if the two men next to him hadn't caught him immediately. Head in his hands, he didn't hear them trying to calm him down, trying to reassure him. He didn't see the worry on their faces or the boy shrink away in fear and concern, not knowing what to do. Part of him knew they were trying to help him, to care for him, but he couldn't take it. Everything he went through was for nothing. He truly was nothing. All his efforts aiming for a positive end were nothing. He did bad things for a long time because Master told him to. And even though he was defeated, in the end, Master still won. He was nothing but a broken bird, formed into the perfect criminal.

"Don't look at me..."

"Dick?" The concern in _his_ voice only drove more needles into what was left of his heart. This man shouldn't care for him so much. He was evil, a bad boy, nothing. "What are you—"

"Don't look at me!" In a movement so fast it would make a Flash jealous, Dick pulled away from both men, leapt back onto the bed, and scurried away from them. It was hard to breathe. They gaped at him. He knew it and he couldn't take it. Quickly he pulled the covers over his entire body, hiding himself away from them. Curling up into himself, he kept his back to them, shaking under the blankets. All for nothing… All for nothing…

"Dick…"

Quickly he covered his ears. He couldn't bear to hear _his _voice. He didn't deserve _his_ compassion. He did so much wrong… He should be rotting in prison for what he did. For everything he did. Claiming it was for them… All for nothing…


	2. Worry

Forgot to mention, Beta-ed by undecidable

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They cast worried looks over to the infirmary bed where their long lost bird huddled in shame and fear as they conferred not too far away. Bruce was covered in bandages and stitches while Tim only had some bruising. Deathstroke did a number on one of them, but he clearly only wanted Robin out of the way for a moment. Maybe he was serious about taking him prisoner as well. Good thing that was the trigger needed to push Dick over the edge and break free of him. They probably would not have won that night without him.

Dick saved their lives. And instead of being happy about it, about being free, he was crumpled into a ball, shaking.

"What's wrong with him?" Tim asked in a small voice, scared to even bring it up. This was Dick Grayson after all. Saying something was wrong with him was admitting there was a flaw in the hero he had admired for so long. But everyone was wondering the same thing. They just wouldn't bring it up.

"In cases such as his," Alfred started, "post-traumatic stress is expected, but I have never seen a reaction like this before towards family."

"He's suffered more over these four years than any of us can imagine." Bruce kept his gaze on his ward… his son. He couldn't bear to see him like this, but he couldn't look away either. "You saw the scars Alfred. You have an idea what happened to him."

"Some." The butler hesitated elaborating, looking once to Tim. The young bird cocked his head, blinking owlishly at them. They didn't want to tell him something. Something that worried them greatly. He wasn't there when they changed him out of those clothes and into a set of blue pajamas several sizes too big for him (originally Bruce's). Alfred had looked over the young man's wounds and gave him a physical short of waking him, then let him rest in the infirmary. They were going to transfer him to his bedroom after a full examination and some questioning, but Dick's outburst stopped that plan. And now the adults were being cryptic. "I do not know to what extent the injuries occurred, but given some time and discussion, we can find out. But until we can determine the state of his mental health…"

He looked gravely back to the bed. "He should not be left alone. Not unless he's sedated, and I hesitate to use them."

"Need to finish those tox-screens," Bruce murmured, worry growing on his face. He was suppressing his panic, his fear, about all that could have happened to his boy all this time. Who knew what Wilson did to him. "His panic attack could be a result of drugs."

"Or PTSD," Alfred offered quickly.

"Or maybe he's just worried about you two will think." Both men turned their gazes upon Tim, surprised by his idea. He shrunk back a little, trying to explain his reasoning. He really hoped he wasn't going to get into trouble for interrupting. "I mean… If I did a lot of bad things because a bully told me to and my dad caught me, I'd want to crawl into a hole where he couldn't find me. You two practically raised him and he probably never wanted to disappoint you and…"

Realizing he was starting to ramble, the boy's voice became quiet until he shut up entirely. Probably a dumb idea anyway. The men exchanged looks before speaking.

"Possibly all three?" Alfred speculated. "We won't know for certain until those tests are done."

"Until then," Bruce stepped away from the infirmary and to the computer, pulling himself away, "we'll watch him in shifts. Tim, get some rest. Alfred and I will keep watch until the test results come back. We'll set up a system in the morning."

Nerves leaving him a bit, Tim nodded, smiling a little. Good thing tomorrow was Saturday. "Kay. Good night, Mr. Wayne. Good night, Mr. Pennyworth." Swiftly he walked towards the stairs leading out of the cave, but passed by the infirmary anyway. He felt he had to say one thing more. "Good night Dick. I'll… I'll see you tomorrow. And…thank you for saving me tonight."

Not waiting to see the men's surprised faces, or looking to see if Dick was actually awake, he darted upstairs to obey Bruce's orders. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough for him. For any of them really.

As soon as Tim was gone, Alfred and Bruce's voices became whispers, hoping to not be overheard by the one curled up on the bed. The patient was blinking in surprise, staring off into nowhere when the kid said 'good night'. Said 'thank you'. Something lit itself inside him once again and all his senses focused on it rather than the conversation the men by the computer were having.

"If there are any depressants or anti-depressants in his system, it could explain the scars."

"You and I both know his personality. If he honestly thought the only way to end the suffering of others was his death, he'd do it."

A pause. "Do we perhaps owe Mr. Wilson for preventing Master Richard's death then? By hanging his teammates' lives over his head as incentive?"

"No. He wouldn't turn suicidal if he wasn't forced into a life of crime to begin with. The blame falls solely on Deathstroke."

"Somehow I doubt theft, assault, or even firing a gun would result in this."

"He didn't put his career as mercenary on hold to train him." Bruce's voice hung heavily over the cave as Dick clutched even more onto himself and the blanket around him. "We have no idea yet what he witnessed, what he let happen because of the threats. Guilt by association. Dick may never have pulled the trigger, but I know how he thinks. Tim's right. He's feeling guilty because of what Slade did to others, not what he did to him."

He ran a hand through his hair. This was going to harder than he first realized. "I don't know how we're going to help him this time Alfred. I really don't."


	3. Successor

_He_ had stayed in the cave the entire night. The favored butler too. Dick kept his back turned to both of them. He couldn't look at them. Couldn't bear to hear their voices.

There was something said about drugs used on him, but that wasn't surprising. Master had started a resistance training regimen to increase his immunity. He had to adapt to different kinds of drugs and not let them muddle his fighting. He was already able to handle fifteen rare poisons, seven sedatives, and many worldwide diseases. Far more than madmen's toxins.

But the range of immunities wasn't what the men were talking about. Everything they talked about was in hushed tones involved improper drug uses and using some kind of blood cleaning agent or addiction recovery formula. He didn't want to think about what they were talking about. He wasn't addicted to anything and he didn't care if he was. All he cared about was disappearing. Nothings deserved to disappear after all.

Criminals, traitors, failed assassins, things like him, they should all just disappear.

He was too heavy and tired to resist the large hands which kept him still while the other ones injected him with something. They seemed to promise the pain would go away, but that was a lie. The pain never went away, just got to the point when he didn't care if he felt it.

When he woke up, he still had his back turned to them. They were talking to the new Robin again. Something about pinning a writhing person down and the intercom. Rules. He knew they were talking to the kid about rules. Their voices always took a particular tone when they put up rules around him. As soon as they were done talking though, he could hear the heavy footfalls leave the cave. And light ones come towards him.

Dick stiffened a bit, wondering what the kid would do. The kid's steps stopped short of the bed, watching him for a few minutes before he heard a cushion deflate. Robin had sat down in a nearby chair. Flopped, actually. He was sitting with him for a while. And judging by the sounds of rustling paper, he was either doing homework or working on assignments from _him_.

Turning slowly, the acrobat silently shifted to his other side, just to look at his successor. He hadn't really gotten a good look at him yet. The kid looked like he could be twelve or thirteen, lean but not like he was. More well-rounded like a baseball player instead of a gymnast in build, but not overly muscular. Black hair he gelled to stick up slightly in front and dark blue eyes like a stormy night. His face was far too serious to be a kid's, but it also had a childlike charm to it. It would take a lot of acting for this face to look like a vapid idiot. He looked like he could pass for _his_ son, even had the right age difference for it to be believable. There were enough differences to say otherwise, but the idea came to him without a hitch.

The way the kid looked through his homework, though was a bit odd. He was nibbling on the cap of a pen- working in pen. Wouldn't a pencil be better? A book on top of his notebook and a few papers on top of that all sat on his lap. It had to be math. No calculator though. Dick would have needed that. But the boy just solved problems, in pen, without any assistance. Didn't look like he was thinking hard about it either. Just working on it as if it were routine.

He watched the boy work on his assignment in silence, seeing him scowl at his work, cross it out a few times, then continue on like normal. He saw how on occasion he realized something, took it into consideration, then applied it to the assignment like a good little student should. Eventually he shut the textbook and used it as a desk to copy his finished problems to a fresh sheet of paper, adding some kind of heading so it could be turned in. All in pen. Weird.

Finally the kid put that book and notes away, digging out another set from his backpack. He glanced up to Dick on the bed and jolted back in surprise. "Ah cripes! Ah… I… I didn't know you were awake…"

The young man shrugged, still bundled in his blanket. He didn't have any problems looking at this boy, hearing his voice. There was no reason not to respond. He just didn't feel like letting his presence be known. He was nothing after all. Why should he bother Robin while he was working?

"Have you been watching me this whole time?" Red grew in the boy's face, clearly embarrassed. Dick nodded, shrugging slightly. More or less. "Oh… ah… sorry… I should have noticed." The kid looked down, fretting and red faced. "Really should have noticed. I'm so sorry. That was really rude of me. Ah… ummmm…"

"Why were you working in pen?" Knowing the boy wanted to fill the air but didn't know where to start, he asked the question that was bugging him. For some reason the overwhelming guilt and shame he felt hearing _their_ voices didn't come when he was hearing this boy's. There was no guilt, no shame, nothing negative connected to him. It was as if that 'thank you' from the previous night unlocked a door in his mind. This kid was safe and wouldn't judge him.

He wanted to hear his voice. To know who this kid was.

"Uhm…" The boy blinked, then looked over to his half chewed up pen. "I… I'm not sure. My dad always used pen on his crosswords and there weren't many pencils in the house when I was a kid… so… habit?"

"Hm…" He fell silent, considering it. Strange habit. The kid took a breath before getting his embarrassment under control. He looked like he wanted to offer his hand but hesitated. Well who wouldn't? Dick was curled up under a sheet on the bed.

"I'm Tim. Tim Drake. It's… uh… really nice to finally meet you again. I've heard so much about you—"

"Again?" The acrobat blinked at him. They had met before?

"Ah, yeah." Tim turned red again, bashful. He seemed nervous for some reason. Something _he_ said? "We met once before, about ten years ago. I was three and… it was at Haley's Circus… I was there that night when…" He looked away, trying to spare Dick's feelings. Some spikes of pain struck the young man, but he knew them well and didn't let it show. But he appreciated the gesture his successor was trying. The kid was really nervous around him.

"Your family met mine before the show. I've got a picture upstairs to prove it." The young bird gave a sheepish smile as he recounted what he could. "My mom was worried I'd be scared about all the people there and cause a scene, so Dad came up to your family and introduced me to you so I wouldn't be. Truth be told, I kept staring at you, thinking you were amazing. Maybe it was the colors or how nice you were, but I remember you were happy and energetic.

"I wanted to be just like you."

Those words struck a bigger nerve inside Dick, making his chest a little lighter. He… wanted to be like him? No… he wanted to be what he once was. A three year old's impression of an eleven year old acrobat. Tim continued.

"I don't remember a lot about that day, but I remember a few games, a ride or two, and your performance. I saw that quadruple somersault of yours and it was ingrained into my mind. I…" he looked away, more than a little uncomfortable. "Ever since that night… I've had nightmares. About your parents…" He became quiet for a moment, knowing it was hurting his audience. But he had to talk about it. "They aren't that frequent, but they always started with your quad. I never forgot it.

"When I was nine I saw a documentary on TV someone put together about Batman and Robin. I… was already a fan of you two…" The way his eyes shifted at admitting this nearly made Dick smile. Kid was easily embarrassed. "Anyway, I saw this footage of Robin taking down Penguin, and you used that quadruple somersault. I knew right then and there that you were Robin. Only three people in the world could do that move back then and you were the only one left."

"No I'm not," Dick murmured, making the boy blink in surprise. "Saying that only three people could was a gimmick. I know of a handful of others who can do it. I was just the youngest."

"Really? Wow…" Tim blinked at him in surprise, believing every word he said, just because he said it. The kid was so trusting. He continued. "That's so cool… Maybe… Ah… tangent. Sorry. Um… Anyway, that's how I figured out who Batman and Robin were. It's pretty easy to find proof after you put it together. Harder the other way around. I… thought you might want to know. Our first meeting… ten years ago… I'm rambling aren't I?"

"Keep rambling. I don't mind." He tried to give the boy an encouraging smile, but his lips barely twitched. When was the last time he smiled? Well, he wasn't frowning, scowling or anything like that. That was an improvement. "It's kinda… nice."

"But it has to be annoying right?" He seemed unsure for some reason, nervous even. Did he admire him that much? Or was this a personality quirk he had when he met someone for the first time without the mask? "Me rambling on and on about whatever pops into my head… Going off on tangents… Mom would make me shut up by now…"

"Why did you become Robin?" He had asked him before, right before they… Dick almost forgot the two of them fought earlier that week. If it weren't for the kid's defensive training, he would have really hurt him. _He_ must have stressed defense over attack in this one's training to make sure he didn't die or was taken. Defense, escapes, tactics… That rolling dummy was a pretty clever trick.

Tim blushed slightly looking down again. "Well… er…I've kind of been… stalking Batman ever since I was nine. That was around the time you…" He didn't have to say it. Simple math like that didn't require much thought. "As much as I could that is. Britewood Academy didn't exactly give me a lot of freedom. It was actually during last fall break that I…"

Tim bit his lip, rethinking everything. "Let me take a step back for a minute. Um… the second Robin… Um… what do you know about him?"

"Nothing." Guilt and sorrow filled his voice as Dick looked away. He didn't know a single thing about him, not even how he died, just that he had.

The third in the long line of birds blew out a long breath. "Okay… better start with him then. Mr. Pennyworth told me the basics, and I read a lot of articles… I don't think Mr. Wayne's ready to talk about him yet. Okay. About five months after you were taken, this kid around my age tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. Got three of them off too before Batman caught him."

"He what?" Surprise took over his features as he gaped at the kid. Robin number two jacked the Bat's tires? Unbelievable…

"Yeah, completely circumvented the security systems and everything." A playful smirk appeared on the boy's face. He was impressed too. "After getting him to put them back on, Batman brought him here and decided to get his life in order. He offered him the Robin suit, saying he could play the part until you returned and they'd figure something out for the two of you then. It was part of some elaborate plan to force Deathstroke out of hiding, but it didn't take. Anyway, Jason Todd agreed and became Robin. Mr. Wayne even adopted him. Mr. Pennyworth said he wouldn't make the same mistake twice, or something like that. Not sure what he meant by it."

Pangs of jealousy came to the acrobat when he heard the last part. _He_ adopted his second Robin. _He _adopted Jason… but not him. Well he was nothing good. No wonder he was never adopted. At least _he_ didn't hold back with the second one. Really didn't repeat the same events _he_ did with him. Jason was lucky…

"Anywho, for a few years he was Robin. Nearly identical suit to yours even." Tim continued on, though it seemed far from Dick's original question. "Went to Titan's Tower once but according to Mr. Pennyworth, he didn't make many friends. He spent a couple years on the streets before Batman found him and it kind of made him hard on people. Only Mr. Wayne and Mr. Pennyworth seemed to get through to him. I met him once at a charity function but he was more interested in video games than other people."

"Charity function?" Tim went to a charity function? Why? Was he an orphan too? Jason must have been.

The kid gave him a sheepish grin. "Ever heard of Drake Industries? My parents made it. Well… my grandparents on my mom's side helped but Dad has legal rights to it. Anyway, met him once very briefly so I have no idea what he was really like. From what Mr. Pennyworth said, he could be really brash and reckless, but a good kid at heart. He'd make Mr. Wayne play basketball with him and get him to relax every once in a while. Still can't manage that…"

He looked way thoughtful as he explained a bit more. "He runs himself ragged if someone doesn't stop him you know. Anyway, Jason helped Mr. Wayne out of his funk when you vanished and things were going alright for a while. Then there was some personal discovery, a few arguments, the two of them ended up going across the world on a case. Batman left him alone for a few hours to chase down some Joker lead and when he came back…" Tim chewed his lip, not sure how to say it delicately. "Well, the building blew up, with Jason inside. That's about all anyone will tell me, next to Joker being responsible for it."

Hearing what happened caused tears to well in Dick's eyes. He didn't know why he felt the loss of this boy so strongly now. He couldn't remember feeling anything back when Master had told him about his successor or about his death. Maybe he was jealous of him once, sad for him, but now… hearing the guy had helped _him_ through his disappearance… He knew how _he _could be. _He_ did not take loss well. Neither of them did. Losing Jason… must have nearly destroyed _him_, especially after his betrayal. But most of all, another life was lost because of this never ending war. Losing anyone was hard.

He had a successor, a brother, and he lost him before he ever met him.

"Sorry…" Tim awkwardly tried to apologize, but didn't know what to do. He really didn't want to see Dick cry.

"S'not your fault." He buried his head into the cushion he was on for a moment, wiping away his tears so he could communicate better. His voice was pretty weak over all. "You weren't there. If I had stayed…"

They said nothing for a good long while, Dick weeping for the brother he never knew and Tim awkwardly nibbling his lip not knowing how to continue. They had gone off on a tangent again, straying from the original question, but it was a story that needed to be told. After maybe ten minutes of silence (Tim didn't interrupt the young man's thoughts), Dick sniffed and tried to talk again. "Thank you…for telling me about him. His death got you the job?"

The kid nodded and shrugged awkwardly. "Sort of. After Jason died, Batman became more brutal. He got hurt a lot more, aimed for sending criminals to the hospital instead of jail, and Mr. Pennyworth said he didn't take care of his body. I was just taking pictures when I could back then and I noticed this. I was trying to find you too, so maybe you could help him or him finding you could change that, but from what I saw… He needed help fast.

"I… uh… kind of cornered him and forced him to take me in as Robin."

"Forced?"

"Yeah…" He gave a sheepish grin, not certain if he should be proud of what he did. "I… uh… tried talking to Mr. Wayne in person a couple times, but he was hardly at his office and almost never at home. So I talked to Mr. Pennyworth for a bit, gave him my evidence, and convinced him to let me help. Batman was on a case at the time, following Two-Face if I remember right, so we went into the cave and… I borrowed one of the old Robin uniforms. Ended up saving him from under some rubble and then warned him later to keep him from being crushed by trash at the junkyard. We talked and… well…"

He looked straight at his predecessor, explaining his belief. "Batman needs a Robin. I'm not entirely sure what you did to him or how you did it, but when you became his partner, he became better. As a hero, as a protector, as a person, he became better and was amazing. You two were the Dynamic Duo, the greatest crime fighting team ever. No one could stop the two of you.

"But when you left, he started to deteriorate. Your disappearance nearly drove him into the ground. Jason took the role and he became the World's Greatest Detective again. When Jason died, Batman sank even further down than before. He nearly died several times because of his recklessness. I think it's pretty clear he needs someone by his side, to keep him sharp, cautious, and sane. To remind him what he once was and who it is he's fighting for. He needs Robin.

"I told him about how he needed him and he denied it. You know how he is. So I told him how Robin is also an authority figure in a uniform, like a police officer. If the criminals think they can get away with killing Robin, then they'll go after others. Robin was the first protégé and became a symbol without realizing it. For justice and for the future. Jason taking the role made all your work withstand the tides when you vanished. If someone didn't take the role, then… then the bad guys would have won. And we both know that can't happen."

Tim quieted down as the information settled into Dick's brain. Being told that Robin, a role he created, was that important… to _him_… to the crime fighting community… it made him take a mental step back. If the role of Robin was that important, then that meant he was important. He created that role, that persona. But he couldn't be important… not like this at least. He was nothing… really… and yet according to this boy, he was probably more important than anyone. At least to him he was. To Tim, Robin was everything.

But his logic… it made sense. It really made sense.

Dick seriously considered all of his words, soaking them in. _He_ needed Robin. Dick once was Robin. And the heroes of the next generation followed Robin and all he stood for all this time. None of them would have needed or followed someone who was nothing. Maybe… maybe he wasn't nothing. It wasn't all for nothing. At least Robin wasn't.

"After getting him to listen," Tim continued after a minute, "Mr. Wayne kind of put me on probation. Said I couldn't be Robin until after I was trained to a certain degree and passed all his tests. If I passed them all, he'd let me become his sidekick."

"You passed."

"Uh, yeah. Mostly." He offered an unsure smile. "I'm still being trained of course, but I'm good enough to help with cases in the cave and occasionally in the field. The field's the hard part for me. Have to stick pretty close to Batman and follow all his orders, but I got the job. I'm Robin now. The third one. And there's nothing better than that."

The kid's smile gained confidence as he finished. To him the role of Robin was greater than anything else in the world. It meant the world to him, just like it did to Dick so many years ago. He did a good thing when he made Robin.

But… "What do your parents have to say about this?"

Tim looked away, appearing slightly guilty. He'd just stepped on a landmine. "They… don't know. They were always gone and I went to Britewood, the boarding school out here in Bristol. They… have no clue."

"They're alive." The young man watched him in awe now. This boy figured out who he was, forced his way into _his_ life, and still had his parents while maintaining the mantel of Robin as well. Lucky kid.

But he shifted uncomfortably. "Well… not really."

Dick blinked, realizing just how large of a landmine he landed on. Tim continued, looking at his feet while trying to control his voice. "Over the winter holidays, I was staying here, helping with a case, and my parents were taking care of some business deals overseas. They… Their plane was hijacked and they were kidnapped. The company paid the ransom, and Mr. Wayne followed the transfer to save them. Batman managed to get there in time to stop them from being sliced open, but…" His head hung as he admitted the results. "My parents… they were tricked into drinking a nerve toxin. Mom wasn't strong enough to resist it before getting the cure. She… she died. Dad's in a coma. His brain activity's pretty strong so they're sure he'll wake up someday but…"

The boy fell silent, not trusting his own voice anymore. Dick wouldn't have trusted his either under the circumstances. Talking about what happened to his parents, actually talking about it, was always hard. It was even harder when it was recent, and when he was young. He didn't know which factor made it harder.

He let the boy breathe, watching him with concern instead of pity. This was the new Robin. _He_ would never let him go into the field if he hadn't dealt with this already. And it looked like Tim's breathing exercise did the trick. "Mr. Wayne already was an emergency contact number thanks to some hacking, but he became my guardian and transferred me to Gotham Academy after that. Made being Robin a lot easier and…" A sad smile graced his features. "Now someone's always there to welcome me home. It's kind of… nice."

Dick watched him, blinking in mild surprise at the last statement. Had the kid grown up in that boarding school? Were his parents ever around? _He_ was there to welcome him back? Well, when he was _his_ ward, _he_ did try to be part of his life. Didn't always succeed, but _he _tried.

Wait… Tim was _his_ ward too? Well the man couldn't adopt him if one parent was still alive could _he_? But they were both wards. Both Robins. Both forced the man to make them _his_ partner. They looked alike too. They were both there that night when his parents fell. Neither of them got to know the second Robin. Both were threatened by Master to become his apprentice.

They were so much alike… No wonder that threat made him snap. Dick wasn't just protecting Tim. He was saving himself, Robin, his little brother, and the brother he never met.

'_Little brother…_' A small smile graced his features at the thought, his eyes warming upon the kid. Thanks to _him_, and this boy's stubbornness (a necessity in this job), he had a little brother. And he had saved him from the monster that had tormented him. Now he was gone. And they were both safe. Robin was safe.

"Yeah… He can be really nice." After all, _he _gave them Robin, and each other.

* * *

A/N: Okay I know I said I wouldn't do any notes except for the beginning and end chapters, but something in the editing made me remember something somewhat important. Here Dick started being Robin at 11/12. It's been about ten years since then, so he's like 21. I did a lot of math in this. He was 17 when Slade took him. Jason was 12/13 when he started being Robin and died 15. Tim's 13 currently as Robin. I did a lot of math to get this worked out and it's kinda important. Not the norm starting age for Dick I know but I wanted certain ages so everything made sense and this is what I got. Now I'm going to shut up and let you read. =]


	4. Identity

Alfred changed the bedpans, placed meals on the table, and frequently checked Dick over medically, but not once did the young man look at him or respond to his voice beyond flinching. When the old man sat with him during the night, and often the majority of the day, his back remained turned to him, huddling in his bed. It pained the butler greatly to see him like this, but he kept at it. Even the injections he gave him to help ease away the medical problems Slade had caused, he kept up.

Bruce tried to talk to him, tried to sit with him as well some afternoons and evenings, but Dick completely retracted into himself during those visits, shivering. Once, when he tried to force the acrobat to look at him, the guy had a total panic attack, fighting and screaming for him to leave him alone. Kept saying things like 'he wasn't worthy', 'I'm sorry', 'leave me alone' and so many other phrases that worried him greatly. After that point Bruce couldn't take sitting with him while he was awake. He hardly could be around his near-son at all.

Tim was the only one to have any real contact with him. Even made the guy smile and relax on the bed on occasion. Once or twice he came off the bed and walked around, but only when Tim was with him. The young teen seemed to be the only thing that'd make him start acting like he was worth something again. Like he wanted to live.

"Do I really have to ask these questions?" Tim asked when Bruce handed him a piece of paper after a week or so of this, unsure if he really should be the one asking any of them. They were pretty detailed and pretty intimidating. He knew he was the one opening the former bird up, but these things could close that avenue entirely. He really liked talking to him too.

But the man nodded, solemn. "I would have asked him by now, but every time I come near and say anything…" Bruce looked away, trying to hide his fear. His new partner was learning quite quickly that one thing the man feared was what Dick thought of him. Instead he masked it with work. "We have to know what happened, at least in these aspects. You don't have to press for details and if you think he's going to have a panic attack, you can change subjects. Ease into it if you can. You're good at talking Tim. I'm certain you can get him to answer these questions."

The boy looked over the questions again and sighed heavily. Well, they weren't asking deep questions thankfully, just security ones. No awkward answers, right? He turned to the clock entrance to the cave and started forward. "Alright. I'll do what I can. I'll tell you the answers—"

"We'll be listening in on the intercom," Bruce interjected quickly, making his protégé jerk around and wonder. They could do that? "You won't have to report back."

"How many of our conversations have you two heard?" The kid didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or offended. As far as he knew, the two of them were just talking normally. Mostly Tim rambled on and Dick occasionally encouraged him to continue. He just liked listening, contributing on occasion. What the kid had to say though wasn't really that interesting, or relative to anything.

The man rolled his eyes, hiding his pained frustrations. "Tim, I think you've figured out why one of us needs to be with him at all times if he's not sedated. We have the line open in case of emergencies. Understood?"

Grudgingly the young teen nodded and went back into the cave. He wasn't sure if he was violating Dick's trust now that he knew they were being listened to. As soon as he was in the infirmary, he spotted Alfred finishing his daily injections. According to the files he snuck around to read (they kept quite a bit from him and Dick wasn't always awake during his 'shift'), they were slowly removing the addictions Slade had given him. They weren't like heroin or meth, but to tranquilizers and poisons. When taken care of slowly like they were right then, the addict could lose their addiction without horrible withdrawals. They could also mimic chronic depression and push a person with problems over the edge if not handled carefully.

After consulting Dr. Thompkins, Alfred and Bruce developed a medical program to handle all of this safely. According to them and their tests, it was working. Frankly, Tim couldn't see the difference. He stayed away during the injections (hated needles) and was only with Dick during the afternoons and evenings when school was out or over the weekend. Dick stayed on the bed most of the time and just listened to him. He didn't have anything else to compare his actions against except a vague ten year old memory. He just let the experts decide how to handle the first Robin medically.

The only thing he thought was funny was how Dick retracted from them for everything but medical. Odd duck. The butler spotted Tim as he safely disposed of the syringe, nodding to him. When they were a foot apart, Alfred leaned in to murmur in his ear. "He may be sweating more than usual Master Timothy. Pay it no mind, and if he passes out mid-sentence, wake him. He needs to stay conscious for the next couple hours for there to be no adverse side effects."

"Like…?"

"Violent nightmares." They exchanged worried looks and the old man tried to reassure him. "Rest assured, this will not be commonplace. Merely a necessity to assure recovery."

"Right…" Tim's confidence didn't get any bigger as the man clapped a hand on his shoulder, then left. Why did it feel like he was walking into a battlefield? Slowly he walked inside, clutching the paper tightly.

Dick was on his side again, looking off into space listlessly. Only his arm was exposed, swollen a little from all the needle marks on his shoulder and forearm. He seemed to be just short of a human pincushion. Looking off into nothing… Tim could see why chronic depression could be a factor there. He only brightened when he was there, talking to him. Otherwise, this was his good mood.

He walked over to the chair he was staring towards and sat down, waiting for the young man to realize he was there. It wouldn't take long. Just had to wait until… Dick's eyes flashed towards him, focusing on the boy with ease. A small smile appeared on his lips too and he physically relaxed. No danger, no shame there. Not with Tim. "Hey."

"Hey."

"School out?"

"For the weekend." He shifted a bit nervously.

"Anything interesting happen?"

"Working on end of term projects and study guides," Tim admitted. "Can't figure out if I want to talk about the history of slavery or democracy in history."

"Slavery," Dick murmured. "Everyone can agree on that. That a list of other project options?"

"Ah… no." He looked at the paper again. Well, he brought it up. "It's a list of questions Mr. Wayne wants me to ask you." The boy looked over the young man, expecting a panic attack or some kind of negative reaction. Instead he saw a simple go-figure look, like he was expecting it. "You don't have to answer them."

"I'll have to sooner or later." Dick sighed a little, settling himself more comfortably on the bed. He was uncomfortable, but he hardly showed it. Maybe those drugs really were working. He certainly seemed more coherent. "I know how he is. Frankly I'm surprised he hasn't demanded answers sooner."

Blinking from surprise, Tim looked back to the page. "Uhm…okay… Uhm…"

"Start at the top." There was a note of amusement in his voice. It started appearing after the second day he was watching him, every time he fumbled with his words. "He usually puts the most important ones there."

"Right…" He took a breath and started, hoping he wouldn't trigger something by accident and be pushed away. "How much does Deathstroke know about Batman and the Justice League?"

To his surprise, the young man's lips twitched slightly, a smirk coming to him. Smiles and smirks were growing slowly in frequency too, all of them small as if he hadn't done either in a long time. "About as much as the next guy. I managed not to share any secrets, not even my own name."

"How did you manage that?" Tim knew a little about torture from Bruce's lessons, but mostly from historical films and different TV shows. He could only imagine what Dick had endured all these years. If that wasn't torture, what was it?

"A trick he taught me. A combination of meditation and self-hypnosis." He looked away, unnerved. It was not something he wanted to repeat. "I suppressed my own memories of names, places, codes, anything that could be used against them. Even now, I can't bring up his name."

His voice became quiet as he brought up, surprising his successor. "So… you deliberately forgot who Batman is?"

"Not really. Just his name. Both their names." Tim's eyes grew wide, understanding something now. He never said Bruce's name, or Alfred's. It was always pronouns. "I still know everything about them and my personal memories are intact, but those never interested Master. He only wanted names and weaknesses."

"So you don't remember that Bruce Wayne is Batman?" His words made the young man blink, something clicking in his brain. "Or that Alfred Pennyworth has been helping him this whole time?"

He could see a light dawn in his eyes as he recognized the names. Slowly Dick answered. "I do now."

"Huh?"

"It's a trigger, part of the hypnosis." He stretched his back a little, pushing himself into an upright position. "Once I hear their names from someone I know shares the secret, I'll remember."

"So now you remember Mr. Wayne's name."

"Call him Bruce." A slight smile came to his face, hearing the name from his own lips. "He likes it more. Same with Alfred."

"Ah…" Tim blinked, taken back by that. "What?"

"You keep calling them Mr. Wayne and Mr. Pennyworth. They're Bruce and Alfred to you kiddo." Dick smirked slightly. "Last names are for formal guests and functions. You're neither. Call them Bruce and Alfred."

"Ahhuuummm… Only if you stop calling Slade Wilson 'Master'." The young teen's demand made Dick blink. This was a gamble Tim was making, pushing a promise out of him that would hopefully reverse part of the trauma he'd endured, what brainwashing he'd suffered. It may have been a big one, or a small one, but it was a note that had to be taken care of. In all their talks, Dick referred to that monster as 'Master' and it disturbed him. "Deathstroke isn't your 'Master' anymore. You can choose your own path."

The acrobat stiffened, still as a statue. His eyes lost their glimmer once again, lost deep in thought. Seeing this reaction, Tim thought of taking back what he said. He didn't want him to fall silent to him as well. He started to get out of his seat to see if he was alright when Dick closed his eyes and let his head fall a bit. "I'll work on it."

This won a relieved smile from the boy. He hadn't pushed too far. He looked down to the page and studied the other questions. Well, most of them hinged on that question. If Slade knew nothing, there wasn't much else to worry about. But there was a lot of curiosity. "How did you manage to hide your own name and identity from him anyway? The same trick?"

"Kinda." He opened his eyes again, focusing his gaze. "Ma… Slade didn't recognize me thanks to Bruce keeping me out of the media all these years. His ID concealing program kept me from any other records he could use to find out the truth too. And by forgetting my own name for a while… by the time he stopped asking, he had already given me a new name.

"Who I was didn't matter anymore." The light in his eyes died again, all hints of emotions gone. Losing his name, his identity, it hurt him more than they realized. And what was put in its place?

"So… what name did he give you?"

For a long moment Dick didn't answer, lost in thought once again. Patiently Tim waited for an answer. If there was one thing he could do, it was wait. He was fairly good at listening too. If he had to wait and listen the entire night for Dick to be ready answer, he would. After what seemed like ten minutes, he opened his mouth, taking a breath before answering.

"Renegade. He named me Renegade."

"Hm… So…" He cocked his head and considered something. If Dick was in a mental state not his own when they fought, then the two of them really didn't fight. "Two weeks ago, I was fighting Renegade. When you saved me from Deathstroke, you also took down Renegade. And this whole time, I've been talking to Dick Grayson. Anything you did while working with that guy was Renegade, not you."

The young man blinked, the idea taking seed inside his mind. Tim let it sink in, smiling pleasantly. It was simple in his head to think that way; he just hoped the idea would ease his predecessor's conscience. At least a little bit.

"Anyway…" He looked back to the paper and tried to figure out the next question. His audience wasn't zoning out while thinking it over this time. That was a vast improvement from before. "Uh… Who exactly did you meet while with Slade?"


	5. Emergence

Three weeks. Or he thought it was three weeks. Tim had stayed longer than most days for two days in a row three times. Five days separated those longer visits. So, three weeks right? Time was hard to follow when you stay in a cave, particularly in a medical bed.

Dick had taken to sitting up in his bed now to talk to Tim. He still mostly listened, but on occasion he told him stories of his Robin days. Some cases were particularly humorous and started laughter in the dreary place. Bats scattered noisily and the men listening in on the intercom smiled in relief hearing it. Their first bird could still laugh.

But he wouldn't leave the cave.

Tim could get him to walk around the place after the second week, provided Alfred or Bruce weren't around. Hearing about the new rogues in Gotham, some worse than the ones he used to fight and others twice as ridiculous, lightened the time they spent and was quite informative. They lingered in front of Jason's Robin uniform on occasion, and he found himself looking at his own suit, and Barbara's. Dick wanted to know what happened to his first crush, but he was also scared of what the answer would be. Three fallen soldiers? Not seeing Bruce and getting a confirmation was one reason he didn't leave the cave.

Tim was telling him about his first run in with Mad Hatter when he sneezed. Not once, but three times. "Sorry."

"Bless you…" The former Robin cocked his head to the side, wondering if there was a draft that made the kid sneeze.

He smirked, breaking entirely away from his story. "I sneezed three times. You're supposed to exorcise me."

"What?" That was a weird conclusion. Instead of an answer, Tim sneezed twice again, his eyes watering. "Bless you."

"One more time and you'll have to kill me."

"What are you talking about?" Where did that conclusion come from? He was seriously beginning to worry about this kid if he believed that.

The boy shrugged, holding back another sneeze. "Online…joke… HAH-CHOO!"

Without warning, Dick whipped off the blanket around his shoulders and wrapped it around Tim, scowling slightly. "I am not killing you."

The kid blinked at him for a moment before laughing, sneezing twice more. "It's a joke silly. Read it online. A person gets two 'bless yous' to finish sneezing. A third time and it obviously didn't take, so I must be a demon and must be exorcised. Fastest way is—"

"That's a ridiculous notion if I ever heard one." The young man folded his arms, leaning against the bed and scowling at the kid who still laughed and sneezed at his reaction. Strange sense of humor this one. He swore he heard him talk about hobbits and elves and dragons once when he was zoning out, reading some strange manual. A manual, not a novel. He knew the difference.

Looking over the kid, he could see some signs of sleep deprivation. It was likely after he was given a mild sedative by Alfred some nights, Robin was in the field. The boy had to be exhausted, but he was down there in the damp cave with him instead of upstairs resting. It had to be affecting his health. "Are you feeling alright? Getting enough sleep?"

"I'm fine." To emphasize his words, he sneezed twice again.

"Right." Dick shook his head heavily. "You really shouldn't be down here so much. You'll get sick."

"But I like being down here," Tim insisted. "There's so many things lying about, the computer's down here, and so are you. All I can do upstairs is work out, do homework, or bug Mist—Alfred. My homework's done, you can only work out so much before doing serious damage to your body, and I don't want to get in Alfred's way while he's working. And I really like talking to you."

"But you'll get sick." He understood Tim's reasons, but the fact of the matter was the kid was going to compromise his health if he kept staying down into the cave like this. Even he was forbidden from the caverns beneath the manor when he had a cold. Only Batman got away with being sick and being in this cave, and Alfred still protested about it. "Robin can't be sick in the field. Not if he's going to be watching Batman's back."

"But don't you want me down here with you?" The young bird pouted a bit at him, nearly using puppy eyes on him. Begging to stay. It was something the acrobat used a lot as a kid to get his way with Bruce. Usually worked too.

It didn't quite have the same effect on him, though. Dick pinched his brow, trying to be responsible. His head had cleared a lot over the past few weeks and the leader part of him was coming back. He felt responsible for his new brother (he wouldn't sacrifice his own blanket for any old reason). "Tim, it's not that. I just don't want you to get sick. And dark caves aren't exactly the best place to prevent colds. You're better off upstairs in the warm sunlight."

"So are you."

He could see where this was going and inwardly groaned. He wasn't up for this. "Tim…"

"I'm not going to stay upstairs unless you are too." Tim folded his own arms stubbornly, proving his point.

Dick winced, a spike of fear running through him. "I'm not really ready to talk to—"

"Who said anything about talking to them?" That made the young man think. Well, he just assumed going upstairs would require talking to Alfred or Bruce. "Alfred's had your old room ready for you since Bruce said you were in town. Even bought you a new wardrobe after getting your sizes from that other outfit. Heard it's filled with blue shirts you liked growing up.

"Either you come with me upstairs so we can talk or I keep coming down here whether you like it or not. Your choice."

The young man watched the boy for a long moment, thinking it over. The fear he felt deep inside at the thought of being in the manor again kept him from agreeing right away. That place was filled with so many memories… Then again the cave was too. He mostly stayed within the infirmary, but he did leave it on occasion. The guilt inside him was still there but didn't consume him like before. Not with Tim there at least. Maybe it would be the same with the manor.

Relenting, he sighed heavily. "Fine. Go grab me a change of clothes and bring them down here. Alfred would have my hide if I went through the study dirty like this."

Tim grinned and leapt out of his seat, nearly running out the door to the stairs leading above. Dick shook his head, smirking to himself. Guess the kid really wanted to bring him upstairs. Well the infirmary chairs weren't the most comfortable ones in the world, and moving Bruce's chair from the computer was asking for trouble. Maybe that was why. Or he really was coming down with something and wanted to stay upstairs but was down there for him the whole time. Knowing someone would stay with him willingly and actively wanted to be with him, someone he barely knew, warmed him inside.

For a long time he thought he was nothing, unworthy of the legacy he once had. A traitor. Now, he was beginning to think otherwise.

Slowly, he made his way to the shower stalls not too far away. They were always between the lockers and the infirmary as long as he could remember. Alfred still kept the extra towels and hygiene products on hand in the same place too. The acrobat picked out the ones he customarily used out of habit (he was still buying his favorites? After all this time?), a couple towels, and a comb. He glanced once at his long hair, realizing he hadn't taken any care for it since he last had plunged head first into a mess. Why was it so long? Oh yeah, to hide his identity even more. No one would put the well groomed Dick Grayson with a horribly unkempt Renegade this way.

"Bet I look like a girl…" Sighing, Dick shook his head and took the items to a stall, closing the low metal panel after entering. The towels went over the door and the products on the ground before he turned on the water. He stepped just out of range so he could strip out of the far too well worn pajamas (had to be Bruce's) then ran the comb through his hair, waiting for the water to heat up. It took longer to get the knots out of his hair than for the water to get hot enough for him, but he stepped into the downpour as soon as he could, taking it all in.

For a long while he just let the water hit him, taking in the heat and rhythmic pattern. Scenes played through his head, memories. All of them bad. Running through the rain. Mediating with hot coals in his lap while a freezing waterfall fell on his shoulders. Fighting his Master in the midst of a typhoon. Being hosed down before being thrown into isolation. Swimming upstream with weights on his back. Forced to stay outside during a hurricane, shackled to a deep post. Several people's blood mixing with the muddy pools at their feet. So many memories…

He put his hands on the wall in front of him, keeping himself up as he took deep breaths. They were just memories, nothing more. His mind flashed to them all the time in the past when he took two-minute showers with Ma… Slade. That was, until maybe six months ago. That was when they started that drug regimen. He really was messing with his mind on a different level than merely mind games. Why he had added drugs to his 'training' was beyond him. Six months ago he was pretty much dead inside anyway. He obeyed every order he was given.

And it was all for nothing…

A hand went to his head, wincing all the while. How could he be so stupid! He should have seen that possibility! Batman would have. Come to think of it, Batman would have come by after he attacked Wayne Enterprises, especially if Dick couldn't answer a flippin' phone call and detour him from Jump. He's not an idiot and that was his building, in a town where Robin was stationed. After hearing about the probe's attack in his friends, he'd have them checked out. And wasn't there some scientist who specialized in nanotech who was friendly with the League? Bruce said a name earlier but he forgot what it was. His mind wasn't working.

"Why have the disease when a placebo will do the job…"Dick murmured, remembering one case with the infamous Red Claw. Slade didn't need the probes anymore after proving what they could do to his friends. He just had to make him believe they were still there and know the Titans were still alive. Being kept away from them and the rest of the crime fighting community would be enough to keep the ruse a secret.

Maybe he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it going and that was why he snuck those mind altering drugs into him. To permanently brainwash him into being a criminal. A killer. Coming to Gotham for a hit was a bad choice. Too easy for the plan to backfire, and it had. But if it had succeeded… if he had killed…

"Oh my gosh…"

Dick's eyes flew open, jerking his head around when he heard Tim's voice. The boy was carrying in a clean set of clothes, and gaping at his bare back. He honestly looked horrified at the sight. Most people would. Scars covered the young man's entire body, his back especially. The worst of it was the brand on his left shoulder blade. A cruel looking S. His master made him put it there himself little over three years ago.

If the marks on his back were enough to scare the kid like this, then he really did not want him to see his arms. One of them was still pink, just a few months old. It wasn't long after the drugs started now that he thought about it. Either way he didn't want Tim to see them. He'd explain the ones on the rest of his body if he had to, but not those. Never those.

Internally he winced as he realized the truth behind the constant eyes on him. '_Great. I'm on suicide watch._'

"It's not as bad as it looks," Dick insisted, trying to compose himself and reassure the lad at the same time. He spent too much time soaking. Quickly he stooped down for the shampoo and got to work. His body was a mess.

"Did he… do all…" There really was no way for the kid to describe what he saw. Horror became compassion rather quickly. He saw the look in the boy's eye and frowned to himself, wishing the stalls had better doors.

"Not all of them." He looked off for a minute, thinking his answer over. "Joker, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Cinderblock, Dr. Light, and quite a few others left their marks too. Have you seen all of Bruce's?"

"I… Ah…" Tim looked down and away, trying to settle his raging thoughts. "He… usually sends me up to bed before he changes…"

Dick nodded, leaning his head back into the water to rinse out the suds. "Probably hiding them from you. In this job, you're bound to get some like these. Not necessarily a brand, but burns are pretty common too. Broken bones, dislocated joints, bruises, they're all inevitable. So long as you listen to your doctor afterwards though, you can keep the after effects to a minimum. With the right amount of training beforehand, you can avoid them all together."

The kid nodded, his eyes coming back to him. He had to grasp the reality of this situation. It just wasn't a pleasant one. Dick finished cleaning his hair while Tim struggled to find the right words to say, his mind probably filled with questions regarding the marks on him. Some were rather unusual after all. He was scrubbing off the layers of dirt and old skin cells off his skin when the kid finally found his voice.

"How… did you get that brand?"

He briefly smirked to himself sadly, knowing that was the real eye catcher there. He really didn't want to relive that memory, but it was something he had to deal with. Dick didn't say anything for a minute, finishing his scrubbing before putting a layer of soap on first. He really wanted to feel clean before entering that mansion above him. "Mast… Slade… he wanted to make it clear I belonged to him. It was… A few days before, I had slipped a note into an officer's coat pocket, trying to warn the Titans about the probes then where I would be in a few days. He caught me.

"An hour later Officer Ryan Brady of Texas was shot through the head. I had to bury him." Dick kept his eyes down while Tim gasped in horror. It was a day he would never forget. "On that day we were supposed to be somewhere else, he gave me a choice: brand myself or watch as he killed the man's entire family. Burning myself saved three lives."

"You… did that to yourself?" He didn't have to look at the boy to know how he was staring at him in disbelief and horror. Self-branding like that… it wasn't easy.

"I'm flexible." Quickly he rinsed off all the soap, scrubbing in different areas to make sure he was clean. He reached behind his ears and realized his earrings were gone. The holes were even closing up. Blinking, his hands lingered there, feeling it awkwardly in confusion. He was so used to them being there now… "They're gone…"

"Huh?"

Dick quickly finished rinsing himself off and stopped the water, still befuddled. He took up one towel and started drying himself off as he asked, "Those earrings. What happened to them?"

Tim blinked at him, confused as he was still dealing with the whole scars and brand stories. "Ah… you've got scars up and down your back and a horrible brand, and you're more interested in some lame looking earrings?"

"When you've had pieces of metal in your body for the past four years you tend to notice when they're gone." His hair slapped against his neck, dripping horribly everywhere. Wringing it out several times didn't help much earlier. How did girls handle this all the time? '_I need a haircut._'

"Right… Sorry…" The kid shook his head, correcting himself as he found an answer. "Auhm… I think Mi… Bruce…I think he took them out when he changed you out of that uniform. May have sent them to Oracle for analysis."

"Oracle?" He threw a towel between his shoulders and hair then wrapped another over his waist before finally leaving the stall to gather his clothes. Just looking at them he knew Alfred picked them out, not Tim or Bruce. Tim looked like he had normal tastes and Bruce would have grabbed the closest items regardless if they matched or not. Alfred's tastes were formal (even his casual was high quality), matched, and kept in mind the wearer's preferences. These were a lot like the things he wore when he lived there last.

The boy blinked a few times before nibbling his lip. He wasn't sure how to answer. "Uhm… I'm not sure if I should be the one to talk to you about her."

"The Amazon's big computer?" He walked off to one corner of the room to quickly dress without embarrassing the kid further. His cheeks were a bit pink the entire time he was with him. The young man wasted no time covering his extremely scarred body (Alfred thankfully gave him long sleeves), despite its chiseled form. He'd be the ideal man physically if it weren't for all those marks. "Heard about it when I was your age. I just didn't think he had that strong a tie to Wonder Woman."

Tim said nothing for a long moment, letting Dick get some pants on. Stiff, but they were new. Tearing out the price tags took mere moments and then he was fully dressed. His long hair was still wet though. So annoying.

"Yeah…" The kid rubbed the back of his neck, awkward as he was whenever a questionable subject came up. "I'm really the wrong person to talk to about that. Either way, they're gone. Same with that outfit you were wearing. I think they're all tucked away somewhere but I haven't seen them since they changed you… That sounded so wrong."

"Don't get too creeped out by it." The young man left his corner, fully dressed and now combing through his hair again to straighten it all out. Long hair really was a hassle. "They did it all the time when I was little and passed out in the car after patrol. They even bathed me once when I had a really bad fever and was under the effects of Scarecrow's fear toxin."

"Really?"

"Really." Dick smirked to himself when he saw the kid cringe. Who knew he had more propriety than Alfred. "Think of it as a parent taking care of their unruly or tired child and it's really nothing at all. Bet your parents dressed you when you were little."

"Doubt it." Tim's comment made him blink. He could remember his parents helping get dressed as a kid. Didn't his parents do the same? The kid shrugged, trying to brush everything off best he could. Dick could tell he was still reeling from seeing his scars earlier. "But if you say it's okay, it can't be that bad. Ready to go up?"

He hesitated, freezing at the thought. He was so used to the darkness of the cave, could he handle the light above it? That was where Alfred resided most of all. And the exit was through Bruce's study. All the memories of that place… He looked once to Tim and took a deep breath. This wasn't for himself. "Alright… let's go."

Coming out of the cave was a slight shock to his body but not much more. It was early evening so the lighting didn't hurt his eyes. It was the memories that hit him as soon as he passed the clock that hurt more. Not because they were bad memories, but because they were so good and he wasn't. Racing to the clock. Doing homework next to the desk. Damaging the end table while doing a trick. Everything hit him like a ton of bricks, accelerating his breathing. Many of those memories included Bruce. He didn't deserve to be with the man anymore. And yet…

He ended up putting a hand on Tim's shoulder and staring at the back of his neck for support to keep his mind clear. His damp hair fell in front of his face, obscuring his vision and helping to block out memories. Well, at least it was good for something. The boy glanced at him once and his attempts to stop a panic attack, and started to nibble his lip again. Silently they left that room and made their way upstairs to Dick's old bedroom.

Memories continued to flash through his mind as they made their way to their destination. Rollerblading down a hallway and breaking a vase. Swinging from and breaking his second chandelier since coming to the manor. Turing the sitting room into a blanket and pillow fort on a rainy day. Working on a science project out of common scraps and pilfered bat-themed gadgets. Repairing the rails after trying a skateboarding trick down them. Tripping and splattering a wall with chocolate pudding he snuck under Alfred's nose. Coming into the manor and to his room for the first time. Leaving down the same pathway after a very heated argument. The majority of these memories included one man, and if he weren't so terrified of what the man surely thought about him now, he'd indulge in them more.

"Here we are." Before he realized it, they were standing in front of his old room. The door was firmly closed but not locked. Tim pointed down the hall a little ways to another door. "That one's mine, and the one that's locked was Jason's. They don't let me inside it. Wouldn't let me in yours either until we got you back. Care to do the honors?"

Dick just stared at the wood door for a minute, remembering well the last time he touched it. A heated argument preceded it. The slam was so vivid in his mind; he could swear it was yesterday. Possibly the worst choice he ever made was leaving that day. He really should have stayed. Jason would probably still be alive and the apprenticeship would never have happened. So what if Bruce fired him. He'd fired him several times before and each time he proved he couldn't be benched. Why was this one time any different?

Hind sight really was 20/20. Ignoring the repeating sounds in his head of arguments and slamming doors, Dick took a hold of the knob and turned, coming back to the room he grew up in nearly as much as the cave. Everything was nearly the same as he left it. Nearly. His things from Titan Tower were also there, including…

Without even thinking about it, the young man drifted over to his old bed and gingerly picked up a worn stuffed elephant sitting on it. "Peanut?"

"What?" Tim followed after him, slightly curious.

He smiled a bit, showing him the toy. "Peanut. My elephant. Pop Haley gave it to me when I was a baby and I never let go of it. My mom taught me how to fix him a few times too, then Alfred. Looks like he fixed the last tear recently too."

There were a few oddly colored threads still in the elephant that comforted him for years, but the professional work of the butler was undetectable unless you knew it had been damaged. The boy stared at the toy for a while, taking it carefully in confusion. Dick had no problem sharing it. "You… have an elephant…"

"Bet you've got a teddy somewhere." He dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, physically exhausted despite the short walk up there. Memories kept hitting him and they took their toll when they reached his guilt. This room didn't hurt him near as much. This was typically a Bruce-free zone, even Alfred-free provided he kept it clean himself and woke up on time. Bruce only came in for nightmares or to summon him somewhere else. This… His room, was his sanctuary. "Alfred told me about a pound puppy Bruce used as a kid and Babs has Wubby the bear."

"I don't." Tim passed the elephant back. "Mom said stuffed animals were disease carriers so I don't have any."

The young man jerked his eyes over to the kid, his mouth agape. "Seriously?" He nodded. "Not even a baby blanket? Those get washed more."

"Not even that."

"Weird…" For a long moment he looked at the boy, some things clicking into place. He was far too serious some times and he responded oddly to subtle signs of affection, as if you were a foreign object when you ruffled his hair. He could only guess how the kid would respond to a hug.

His eyes drifted just beyond the kid's shoulder to the Titan communicator resting on top of his desk. Seeing it he froze, a pit growing in his stomach. Memories of his friends flashed before his eyes, the worst ones becoming clearer than all the others. Throwing Beast Boy in front of a train. _Why was that there?_ Red X hacked Cyborg's systems. _Wouldn't Bruce keep it in the cave to contact them?_ Shouting at Raven for comparing him to Slade. _Didn't he destroy everything he had as Robin when Slade took him? _Shooting Starfire…

His head went into his hands, breathing heavily as he tried to suppress a panic attack. His ears were ringing so he couldn't hear Tim's voice or panic. For once, his mind was far from Gotham and the guilt of doing wrong by his mentor. Instead, it was consumed with guilt for what happened to his friends in Jump. He'd done things just to save them for so long. And they had already been saved. All for nothing…

Small hands took a hold of his shoulders, trying to get his attention. He vaguely heard his name. Flashes of what happened kept playing in his mind, driving more and more guilt through him. Reality escaped him entirely as he looked up for a moment. He saw Robin before him, who he once was, innocent, idealistic, just, a hero. He saw the concern in him and the warmth he had. He wanted it back so badly…

In an instant he reached forward and pulled Tim into a strong hug. Part of him knew he wasn't hugging his past, but he was holding onto Robin. The young bird yelped in surprise, not sure where to put his hands as Dick buried his head into the crook of the boy's neck. "Uh… Dick?"

"Just for a moment…" He murmured, a plea in his voice. He shook, holding onto the kid tighter. Tears were starting to form and he couldn't stop them. "Just… Let me hold on for a few minutes. Please…"

Tim said nothing to reassure him. He just stayed there for a moment, immobile, before relaxing his body against his and wrapping his own arms around the man. Dick sobbed, holding onto his new brother tighter than he had held onto anything in years. Why, and for what, he couldn't be sure. He just needed to hold onto him. Hold on and know he was good and safe.


	6. Titans

School was finally out, giving Tim more time to do what was apparently his new job as Robin: helping Dick recover. Mostly it was alright. He learned a lot about Bruce and Alfred, plus he got to hear a lot of stories about the first Robin's solo missions. It just took time away from other things he could be doing like hanging out with friends or training.

It'd been a little over a month since Dick was returned to them, and the guy was still not talking to anyone other than him. No longer holed up in the cave infirmary, he stayed in his room. Tim could come and go as he pleased, but Bruce kept his distance and Alfred could only come in while the young man slept. The intercom in the room was permanently on in case something happened, but for the most part, Dick was off suicide watch. Alfred still snuck sleeping aids into his food and treated him for those chemicals in his system, but not as often. Dick was nearly clean.

It didn't help his emotional state, though.

There was quite a bit of progress, but not fast enough for him. The day after they got him into his bedroom, for the brief moments he was alone, Dick tore the place apart. Everything related to the Teen Titans short of casual photographs was smashed to pieces, starting with that communicator. Bruce and Alfred had barged in after hearing the commotion, thinking they'd have to stop him from hurting himself, only to find him sobbing in the middle of it all, holding tight to Peanut. His mind was so far away, he didn't fight his former mentor as he carried him out of the mess and onto his bed for a quick look over. He did flinch and scurry away as soon as Bruce started talking, though. Dick huddled in the corner of his bed until both men left after cleaning up the mess. He hadn't done anything that drastic since.

Hence why they just let him be alone in his room these days. Occasionally they heard him sobbing over the intercom, but mostly, they only heard him walking around or sleeping when he was alone. With Tim, he opened up and talked.

And that was why he was still going to his room day after day, talking to him and listening to what Dick would say. Pleas to leave the room and talk to others were ignored or bypassed, but at least he wasn't staying on his bed all day. Tim saw signs of him reading books in that room, possibly reliving pleasant memories slowly so he could handle things better in the future. He hadn't touched his outdated computer or desk in general. The thing didn't look much used when he lived there either. Peanut was nearly always with him. "She's good company," Dick would simply state.

"Why an elephant?" Tim asked, curiously poking at its nose. The two of them often talked by the window, enjoying the soft cushions and the sunlight. Dick curled up on the window seat a lot, just staring out the glass panes and watching the world go by. Tim brought up cookies and other snacks to eat as they talked and put the plate between them. They were enjoying peanut butter today.

"I love elephants!" Dick gave him an incredulous look. "There were a few in the circus that I became rather friendly with. Zitka and Eleanor were some of my best friends as a kid. Next to birds, they were always my favorite animal. I nearly convinced Bruce to get me one when I was a kid, but he insisted they'd be better off with a lot of other animals or with people who could always be there for them. They're rather social creatures you know."

"Wouldn't know." He leaned back against the wall, swiping a cookie as he went. "I never looked them up before."

"Consider it an assignment then," the young man joked, grinning at him. The smiles were becoming more frequent around him, along with a few jokes. He could only assume he was feeling better. He took a sip of the Coke Tim snuck past the butler before giving his playful order. "By this time tomorrow I want you to be an expert on elephants."

"Why would I want to—"

"Please excuse the interruption Master Richard." Both boys froze at Alfred's voice over the intercom, jerking their eyes over to the speaker on the other side of the room. Another reason they talked over there was to keep their conversations private. "But there guests wishing to see you at the door."

Tim blinked in surprise, then looked over to Dick. He visibly paled hearing Alfred's voice, but the message seemed to make him shake. Otherwise he was frozen. Guests? Taking charge, the younger bird went to the intercom and pressed the response button. "Who exactly is here?"

"The Teen Titans I believe." Tim could hear Dick take in a breath and glanced over to him as Alfred went into specifics. "A Miss Starfire, Miss Raven, Mr. Cyborg, and Mr. Beast Boy if memory serves me right."

"When…" The young man looked terrified at a thought of his former friends. "When did they find out who…"

The kid shrugged, wondering himself. Robin didn't give out his identity. When and how these four learned who Dick was and where he once lived was a mystery to him too. And considering how paranoid Batman was about these things, it seemed unlikely he was the one who told them. When they found out Dick was back among them was less of a mystery. One of their contingency plans back when Slade and Renegade were attacking Krol was for the Titans to appear and talk to him. They would know he was back.

"Do you wish to see them sir?"

At the question, Dick shrunk back into his seat, nearly ready for a panic attack. He shook his head vehemently, less ready to see his old friends than he was to hear Alfred's voice. Tim answered for him, knowing full well it was a bad idea. "That's a negative. Tell them thanks, but he's not ready for visitors quite yet. He'll call them personally when he can."

"Of course sirs." And with that the intercom returned to just listening to the room. Behind him Tim could hear Dick release a relieved breath.

"Thanks."

He shrugged. "Hey, if you're not ready, you're not ready. Can't push things like this."

"No kidding." The young man leaned back against the window, relaxing slowly. "Those guys can be pretty pushy. Couldn't take no for an answ—"

"My apologies," Alfred's voice cut them off again, jerking them around, "but it appears they will not take no for an answer. They're coming your way."

"Crap." In the distance they could hear the sounds of rushing feet, none of them normal. Quickly Tim locked the door and started looking around. "Is there a secret passage in here you can use?"

"Closet." Dick was on his feet, thinking just as fast as Tim was. The windows were bolted shut for his protection so they wouldn't do. The younger bird grabbed a chair and propped it against the door to make it harder for them and buy more time. "It should lead to the library and we can get to the cave from there."

"Good. Use it." He took Peanut and hid her under some pillows, glancing around to see if there was anything else there the Titans would recognize as Dick's he had to hide. Misdirection could work wonders here. "I'll distract them until you're out of harms away."

"What?" He jerked his surprised face to the kid, taken back by what he said.

"They aren't after me." It seemed pretty simple to him. "I can distract them for a few minutes while you get to safety, let them search the rest of the house, and when they realize they can't find you, they'll leave. And with the intercoms open, you'll know when that happens."

"You don't know them like I do," the young man started. "They won't—"

"You got a better plan? I'm open to suggestions." That stopped Dick from objecting anymore. They really didn't have much else to go with. "Okay, then. Run."

He hesitated for a moment before going to the walk-in closet. "Try to stay out of Starfire's hands okay? She's really aggressive when she's mad. And Raven's an empath. Lying to her won't be easy."

"I'll manage. Now go!" Tim looked towards the door and the sounds approaching it quickly. They were getting close. When did they get the layout of the manor? He looked back to where Dick was and saw the closet door was firmly shut. Tim smirked and began to formulate a plan to get rid of them faster.

Quickly, he grabbed the soda he snuck in and flew to the bathroom, purposely dumping some on his shirt. He emptied the can down the drain and tossed it before taking off his top. He was just getting the tee under the faucet then the door started being pounded on. "GO AWAY! I'M NAKED!"

They ignored his shout and just blasted the door off its hinges. Tim gaped at the damaged from the bathroom as they filed in; knowing that that was coming but still surprised they actually destroyed it. "You know, a locked door usually means someone wants to be left alone. What part of 'I'm naked' didn't you understand?!"

"Where is Robin?!" Starfire didn't waste any time with pleasantries or apologies. She just glared daggers at him when _her_ Robin didn't show himself. The others were still looking around the room as if they expected their old leader to be tucked away in a corner somewhere.

"You're going to have to pay for that door ma'am." He kept looking beyond them to the wood now getting stepped on by Cyborg and Beast Boy. The changeling had turned into a bloodhound and was searching that way while Raven slowly and coldly floated to the middle of the room. Cyborg seemed to be the only one who heard him talk at all, getting off the door and looking a little guilty for the property damage. "Or at the very least fix it."

"Tell me where Robin is!" The Tamaranian's eyes glowed as she came closer to him, threatening all sorts of things without saying anything. Her intimidation methods may have worked last year, but he'd seen Batman at work for a while, and all the psychos that went with the gig. An angry alien didn't phase him.

"I don't think that chair will ever be the same again." The chair he used to reinforce the door was also in pieces. He prayed Dick didn't care about it.

"Well, you don't look very naked, kid." Cyborg folded his arms, glaring at him too, but more in annoyance. At least he seemed reasonable. The other two were ignoring him. "What are you doing here? Where's Robin?"

Tim cringed and held up his wet shirt. "I spilled some Coke on my shirt and that's kind of forbidden here. Soda that is. Didn't want to get caught and this was the closest room with a sink.

"As for Robin…" He shrugged, waving to himself and trying not to feel too self-conscious. "You're talking to him. Hi."

"LIES!" Green glowed nearly everywhere around the alien princess. "YOU ARE NOT ROBIN! YOU ARE JUST A PUNK BATMAN USES TO EASE HIS GUILT! A CHEAP REPLACEMENT!"

The kid blinked, then looked away awkwardly. "Sheesh… is this why he never went back to the Tower? Boy, do I feel sorry for him now. Well, sorrier. But I am Robin, no doubts about that. Just not _your_ Robin. This is not the Robin you're looking for," Tim quipped with a smirk.

"Cut the jokes!" Beast Boy returned to human form, glaring at him too. "I smell our Robin all over this place!"

"Course you would. This _was_ his room."

"And you were just _borrowing_ it?" He snarled back. "Just like you're _borrowing_ his name?"

"Calm down, BB, Star," Cyborg ordered, trying to take control of the situation. For a moment, Tim thought he noted how much the changeling's comment stung, but let it go after a moment. Cyborg took a step closer to the boy, glaring slightly. "Tell us where our Robin is. We need to talk to him."

"I'm more interested in finding out how you found out where he lives. Do you mind if I grab a shirt? This is super embarrassing." Leading them out of the room sounded like a good idea at the moment. Maybe he could talk them out of searching the house. He _did_ talk Batman into taking a third Robin, after all.

"You're stalling." Raven's eyes narrowed at him, finally figuring out something about him. "And you're rather good at distractions. Tell us where Robin is. Now."

Seeing her eyes turn black, he could feel the temperature of the room drop as well. '_Okay, acting casual isn't working… Time for honesty._' Tim sighed heavily, looking like he was giving up. "Look, he's not ready for visitors. He can't even take seeing Batman right now. If you just leave and wait for him to come to you, eventu—"

Starfire charged at him, grabbing him by his throat and driving his back into a nearby wall. Her friends protested loudly in surprise while he struggled to make sure she didn't accidentally squeeze too hard and choke him as his feet dangled off the ground. He knew he'd be feeling this later. A glowing fist was aimed at his head as she snarled her demands. "ENOUGH STALLING! WE WILL BE THE JUDGES OF WHETHER HE IS READY FOR US OR NOT! WE HAVE WAITED FOR FOUR YEARS TO SEE HIM AGAIN AND YET YOU KEEP HIM FROM US! TELL US WHERE HE IS THIS INSTANT!"

Tim managed one word while clawing at the hand around his neck,"…Choking…"

"STAR! CALM DOWN!" Cyborg and Beast Boy started towards her, about to peel her off, but a black and blue blur beat them to it.

Dick slammed into the girl, tackling her to the ground and forcing her to release the younger bird. Tim slid to the ground, focused on breathing and relieving the pain in his neck while the acrobat wailed on the woman. "DON'T TOUCH HIM! LEAVE ROBIN ALONE! DON'T COME NEAR HIM!"

Surprise shone from each of his friends' faces, stunned at what had happened. They couldn't do anything but watch. Tim needed a moment to breathe before he realized what was happening. It was the same thing as when Slade threatened him. Dick just reacted, trying to protect him. And now he was fighting his friends.

"DICK, STOP! I'M FINE!"

Immediately the young man stopped and looked over to him, breathing heavily. Scrambling away from his old teammate, he went straight to Tim's side, worry plastered all over his face as he looked over the boy. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you? I knew leaving you alone was a bad idea. What happened to your shirt?"

"Used it for a distraction…" He gave him a slight glare. "I thought I told you to—"

"Do you really think I'd abandon you?" Dick gently put his hands around the kid's head, checking the back to make sure it wasn't injured. "I know how they are, especially Starfire. Superman has way more control than she does. No blood but you need to get that looked at. You may have a concussion. How many fingers do you see?"

He held up two, making Tim glare at him a little more. "Two. Now, enough. Quit worrying. I'm fine."

"Robin?"

Cyborg's voice froze them both. Tim looked from him to Dick and started nibbling his lip. The young man had stilled again, trying to control his rapid breathing. He was doing better when he was fretting over the younger bird. Concern and worry played on all the team members' faces, just staring at their former leader. The last time he fought them, he barely touched Star. His blows didn't do much damage to her this time around, but it was the way he went after her so viciously that shocked them most of all. And because of this kid… "Is that really you?"

Dick closed his eyes and turned further away from them, shaking slightly. "I'm not Robin. Not anymore. That's his name now. Your Robin died four years ago."

"No…" Starfire came up behind him, trying to reassure him or gain some comfort of her own. She wasn't angry anymore, just concerned. Cautiously, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are still Robin. At least to us. And you are—"

Dick pulled away from her, slapping her hand away as he did so. As she pulled back, Tim blinked. Dick never did that with Bruce or Alfred. Why did he… "I'm not. Get over it.

"What are you doing here?" Some anger was in the young man's voice, making the boy give a baffled look to him. He wasn't looking at anyone, just the tile floor of the bathroom not too far off. A slight tremble went through his body, making Tim worry for him a little more. What was going through his mind?

"What are we doing here? What are you doing here?!" Cyborg took a step closer to him, trying to get answers. "According to Speedy, you swore you'd never come back here! That you were done being Batman's lackey! We thought that as soon as you learned the truth about the probes you'd come straight back to Titan's Tower!"

"Remind me to hurt Roy later," Dick murmured low enough so only Tim could hear.

"We have been so worried for you," Starfire added, heartbreak in her eyes. "Will you not come home with us? Tell us what happened?"

"I am home." His teeth clenched as his voice gained strength. "Leaving here was a mistake. I'm not making it again."

"So are you saying making the Teen Titans was a mistake?" Beast Boy's question was met with silence. Tim could see Dick's eyes look away even further, guiltily. He didn't think so. "That everything we ever fought for was wrong?"

"You're better off without me," he stated flatly. "All of you. Just… Go back to your lives and leave me alone."

"But Robin—"

"LEAVE!" Dick was at his limit, almost ready for a panic attack or running into a corner to hide. Maybe both. Tim looked from his strained face to the Titans, whose lives he once believed he was saving. They were watching him closely, seeing his broken form barely protecting his successor. They were all brokenhearted. They'd waited years for him to return to them, and now, he was demanding they leave him. Ties of friendship wouldn't help him now.

"Come on." Raven motioned to the others to leave, walking out the ruined doorway. Cyborg was the first to follow, trailed closely by Beast Boy. Starfire was last, walking dejectedly at this turn of events. Raven's powers fixed the door they busted down once they were in the hallway, each of them devastated. This was not what they were expecting at all.

"Dick…" The young man was just starting to return to normal as he slowly looked over to Tim again. The new Robin was glaring darkly at him, almost imitating a bat-glare perfectly. "What was that?"

"What was…" Confusion bounded into his eyes- clearly his mind had been scattered to the four winds by adrenalin. He blinked at the boy owlishly.

"That." Tim pointed to the door, indicating the Titans that were leaving. "You just shoved them away."

He let out a long breath, going back to checking the kid for wounds. "Of course I did. I can't have them hurting you again."

"Them hurting me? Or you hurting them?" He didn't get an answer. "Dick, they've waited over four years for you! The least you could do was say thanks for worrying about you all this time! They've been searching for you this entire time and you reward them by shouting?! They're the best friends you could possibly ask for and you just… AURG!"

Frustration ate away at the kid. Honestly he could see both sides pretty clearly, but Dick really should have handled it better. He could tell the guy was already feeling badly about what he'd done, but he kept himself busy making sure Tim was alright. It was as if he was saying, 'They're fine. You're more important'. Well, their whole conversation basically said that. As much as he liked the concern, what Dick did was dumb.

"You have to apologize to them!"

"Star hurt you," Dick murmured, trying to reason out his actions. He wasn't looking Tim in the eye this time, just checking his newly forming bruises. "They barged in when we said no and—"

"That doesn't justify shouting at them like that! They're just worried about you! We all are!"

"Bruce and Alfred took a step back," he pointed out. "They can do that too."

"And how many chances do you think you'll get?!" The comment struck the young man, giving Tim enough space to get to his feet and start marching towards the door. "You know very well how precious life is. Don't squander it!"

"Wha… where are you going?" Some panic came to Dick's voice as he opened the door to leave.

"To get medical attention and a new shirt!" Honestly, his back did hurt a bit and his neck was going to be sore for a while, but the guy fretting over him wasn't helping, at all. He glared back to the young man, more disappointed than angry. "Really Dick, you need to apologize to them. You may have protected me, but there are other things you need to save. And your friendship is one of them. You wanted to save them. _This _is your chance. Don't waste it."

Not waiting for a response, Tim left him, marching to his room for a fresh shirt before hunting down Alfred. It didn't take long to do either and soon, he was going into the kitchen to see what the butler had for these kinds of bruises. He didn't expect to see the Teen Titans huddling dejectedly around the small table there with him, drinking tea.

Alfred saw him immediately and offered him a slight smile. "Master Robin. Is everything alright?"

The kid pointed to the Titans in confusion, still frustrated and wary of them. "Why are they…"

A slight smirk appeared on the old man's face as he came towards him. "I know Master Richard much better than most. He would not want his friends leaving in these spirits. Now, may I see what new injuries you have managed to collect?"

"Ah…"

"My apologies." Starfire came over to the two of them, her spirits low as she spoke with them. "I did not intend for this to happen. Had I known how Robin… our Robin… how he felt… I did not mean to harm you. I was…"

The alien was flustered, trying to find the right words to apologize to him with. Tim wasn't that understanding to just let it go, no matter what he said to Dick. It still hurt and she _did _nearly kill him. They also accused him of not being Robin. Starfire was a pretty rude, angry alien for their first meeting. But, then again, she was the most desperate to find Dick. Everything he read and saw told him that plainly. No wonder she overreacted. He looked over to Alfred after a moment of looking at her, not sure what to say himself. "Uh… got anything for bruises?"

"Allow me." Raven's voice startled him, reflexively pulling back from the empath once he realized she was behind him. When had she…? Her cool touch hovered over his back, somehow soothing his smarting pains. It was a pleasantly cool feeling too. Tim became perfectly still as her hand went from his back to his neck, her eyes glowing white. All the pain he felt a minute ago left him, making him blink in wonder as she finished with the small part of his head that hit the wall earlier.

"Uh… thanks…" was all that could come out of his mouth in the end.

Raven just nodded. "I should have stopped her earlier. We all know how passionate she is about… Richard was it? We've only called him Robin."

"Well…"

"Alfred?"

Everyone stopped, jerking their heads around. Dick's shaky voice rang over the intercom. As the butler pressed the button to respond, everyone quietly looked over to the speaker as if it was a godsend. Alfred looked particularly pleased. "Yes, Master Richard?"

"Are… Are the Titans with you?" Tim started to nibble his lip in anticipation. This was the first time he had talked to Alfred or anyone other than him willingly. His voice shook, but he was confronting one of his fears. Hope lit inside his chest as he patiently listened.

"Indeed they are. Do you wish to speak with them?"

"To them. I…" Dick hesitated, clearly trying to regain his courage. "Look guys, I'm sorry for how I acted. But Star, you better make it up to Robin. I… I really don't want to see him hurt. When I was Robin, I got hurt… a lot. Slade he… he threatened to hurt him… like he hurt me. I see him and I see myself… I'm… I'm not well guys. I'm just not ready for a lot of things. I'm either swamped by guilt or reliving everything I went through. I know you want to help… but guys… right now I… I just need some time. To figure things out, you know. And I can't do that as a Titan. I'm… I'm sorry."

They could hear a faint thump on the other end and a broken gasp. "God, I'm so sorry… I wish I never put you in harm's way like that. Had I known the probes were gone… I would have run away from him in a heartbeat. I did… I did so many crimes in your names… Stood by while he… I just can't face people right now. I need to be here. Back where I started. I'll be fine here. Making the Teen Titans… it was one of the best things I've ever done. Being your friend, fighting by your sides…I don't regret it. It's just… Catch 22. Kinda hard to explain…"

He took a deep breath as he tried again. "Guys… as much as I wish I could go back to the way things once were, I can't. Not yet. I need to be somewhere I know is safe right now. Somewhere I can heal. I know this place is both. Batman helped be before… he's doing what he can now. Agent A and Robin are two of the best people I know and… guys I just… I'm sorry for yelling at you, but I'm not ready. There's a lot I can't handle right now, a lot of issues I need to work out. If… When I'm ready… I'll come back. I just… I just need some time…"

The crowd waited patiently as Dick spoke, sensing how hard it was for him to even do that much. Starfire was crying for his sake, covering her mouth. Beast Boy stared sadly at a piece of tile, deep in thought. Raven closed her eyes, breathing slowly to control her emotions. Tim and Alfred watched them all in silence, especially when Cyborg slowly stepped up to the intercom and pressed a button to talk back.

"We here for ya, Rob. Or Richard. Or Dick. Or whatever you call yourself these days. Take all the time you need. Just don't forget you have friends." He smiled sadly, clearly understanding what their former leader was going through. Well, he _was_ half machine. He must have had some trouble recovering after whatever event had happened to make him that way. "We'll be here when you're ready."

There was nothing on the other end for a moment, then, "Thanks Cy. Thank you all for not giving up on me… and for looking all this time. I just wish…"

"We all do," Raven murmured, not aiming to be heard. A small smile grew on the Titans' faces, easing the tension in the room considerably. Tim took a relieved breath, giving a small, admiring smile to the speaker. Dick really was a great guy.

"Don't worry about it. What are friends for?"

There was silence again on the other end for a moment, then, "Star?"

"Yes?" The Tamaranian stepped forward, ready to talk.

Tim pointed to the com unit then there wasn't a response. "You have to press the button and be right next to it."

"Oh." Starfire stepped up to the unit and gently pressed it. "Yes Robin?"

"Sorry… for fighting you like that…"

She shook her head. "Think nothing of it. I was also in the wrong. I did not know this boy was so precious to you. Had I known—"

"Robin is the reason I'm standing here now." That made all the Titans blink, and Tim turn red. He really didn't do much. "Being Robin saved me as a kid, and this one… without him I think I'd be a killer now. I don't even know if Batman would be alive if it weren't for him…"

It was only Alfred's firm hand that found his way to Tim's shoulder that stopped the young bird from fleeing the kitchen at this point. The Titans were looking at him in surprise as he continued to turn redder and redder. By then, all but Starfire had realized he wasn't the second Robin they knew. What she said before to him really was mean. The easily embarrassed kid before them couldn't be the brat they met once.

"I… did not know…"

"Remember to apologize to him okay? Be nice to my kid brother."

The Titans exchanged surprised looks again, mouthing 'brother' to each other. Tim really wished he could vanish right then or hide behind Alfred instead of being locked in place next to him. If only he was a few years younger and could bury his face inside the guy's jacket without humiliating himself. Oh if only Bruce were home! He'd square this away so fast…

Dick called him his brother. Okay, that was nice. No one had called him their brother before. Sure he was an only child but… it was rare anyone even called him 'son'. Even before his parents' kidnapping it was rare. Someone publically acknowledging him as family was nice for a change.

"I will." Starfire smiled sweetly, yet sadly as she finished. "Take care, friend Robin."

"Dick. Call me Dick."

They could hear him back away from the com unit in his room, conversation over. The alien looked at it wistfully. "Dick…"

"Soooo…." Beast Boy slid up to Tim's side, a playful smirk on his face. "Brother is it?"


	7. Alfred

"Nah, Slade's cooking wasn't that bad." Dick smirked to himself as he talked to the com unit above him. "Bruce's attempts were much worse. And I learned how to cook a bit too- the basics that is. I'm nowhere near your level Alfie."

"Considering how many years I have on you, I would think not." Alfred's voice merrily bantered over the intercom as he worked on some treats. "And I studied with quite a few talented chefs in my youth."

"I thought you were obsessed with the secret service and acting back then." Dick looked up from the Rubik's Cube he was working on as they talked, a bit more curious than usual. He hadn't heard every story from the old man after all.

"It took quite some time to decide my career path, Master Richard. As a child, my father insisted I learn everything a butler would need to know and he sent me to some fine schools in England. I decided to explore my options once he was in full service to the Wayne family and out of my hair. I followed many paths, including Her Majesty's Secret Service and an acting troupe."

"Wait, you had hair?" Hearing the butler scoff, he laughed. It was still fun getting under the man's skin. "Wow, Alfie, didn't know you rebelled against your old man. I thought you were just born amazing and perfect."

"Far from it, Master Richard. Some of the things I did in my youth would put a few of your antics to shame."

"And just how many chandeliers did you break?" Knowing the man was rolling his eyes, Dick just laughed, enjoying the conversation.

The two of them were having quite a few of them now. Since the day the Titans visited, he found it easier to hear Alfred's voice. Tim wasn't always around and he could only read every book in his room so many times before he could recite them. At which point, they'd be useless to him. Talking to Alfred, about the past especially, made the long days go by faster. He forgot how witty the old man could be. He had really missed the man he thought of as a grandfather.

Dick had been liberated from Slade nearly two months ago.

Other than a few headaches and infrequent stomach problems, he was pretty much free of any chemicals forced into him by that slave driver. Alfred still snuck sleeping aids into his evening meal so he could come in and continue injections to remove the addictions, but it wasn't that bad. He could tell he was addicted to something now, and how badly he was drugged before; he just didn't know what with. And that was dangerous. Thank heavens for Bruce and his drug catalogue. The guy had a list for everything.

He still stayed in his room, not sure if he could handle all the memories that came with the rest of the house yet. Plus, Bruce could be out there. Even if he was able to take Alfred's voice, he wasn't ready in the slightest for the man who had taken him in.

Well, maybe that wasn't entirely the case. Dick had nightmares often, always about his 'training'. Sometimes he swore he woke up in the middle of them and Bruce would be there, holding him. He used to do that all the time when he first came to live at the manor when he was a kid. Just hold onto him, comfortingly rocking and murmuring in his ear. He had a lot of delusions of it happening again when he was with Slade. He thought it was just part of his dreams. There was no proof of it having happened in the morning. He just felt… Well, those dreams were about all he saw of the man those days, and it was fine by him. He wasn't ready to face the guilt of knowing how many of his rules he broke.

Talking to Alfred like this was a huge improvement as far as he was concerned. And he rather enjoyed it. Made the times Tim was busy elsewhere more bearable. Being Robin meant a lot of other things than just watching him or keeping Batman on the straight and narrow. He had to exercise and train some time. That was what the kid was doing right then, working out in the gym and doing what training he could do without help.

For a while now he'd been asking Dick to join him in the gym and show him how to do some of the tricks he was known for back in his Robin days. Personally, he would have been happy to show off his cool moves a few years back, but he hadn't worked out or done anything remotely like training since returning to Gotham. Other than walking around and tackling Starfire, he hardly even moved. He mostly just sat around deep in thought or talking to Tim or Alfred. He preferred talking.

"So what was the worst thing you did?" He quickly solved the puzzle he was working on, not quite happy that it took him thirty moves to do it. He used to be able to get it in twenty. He reshuffled the cube to try again. Slade had made his chess game much better, but other mind teasers had suffered a bit from the constant physical training. And this wasn't even going into how much the guy messed with his head. He really was trying to erase everything the Bat taught him. "Use the wrong cleaner?"

"Oh, I may have been involved with the redecorating of certain men's offices. I was never convicted of course." Dick fell into gales of laughter, never once thinking of the man as a devious trouble maker. Maybe Bruce got his sneaky tendencies from him. "It wouldn't do to be implicated in such events."

"So, were you the one who taught Bruce how to pull pranks on people?"

"Pranks? My dear boy, I would never dream of such a thing!" The chuckling young man waited for the next comment, knowing it would be coming. "Master Bruce has always had a mind of his own. Even before he was permanently in my care, he had a vindictive side. You should have seen what he did to his teacher after a picture of his parents was taken away."

"I can imagine." Young Bruce would only be a less violent Bat back then. He could only picture some surly teacher dyed several colors and covered in small cuts and bruises as revenge.

"It wasn't until your arrival here that he became playful again." That remark made Dick pause for a moment, looking down sadly. He had heard things like that a few times, that he had lit up the man's life considerably. Tim insisted he changed Batman for good, becoming his conscience and light as much as his partner. Until his return, he didn't really take it all to heart. He must have had a significant role under this roof all those years ago and hadn't realized it. Here, he was something important. And knowing this now helped calm his mind and heart a great deal.

"I believe you even preserved Mr. Kent's life," Alfred continued, not noting what was going through his charge's head. Dick looked up at the intercom curiously. Really? "They had met only once before your arrival and they liked each other very little. You being one of Superman's fans turned that general distaste into jealousy and Mr. Kent started seeing who Master Bruce really was, beyond the cape and cowl. I dare say they are good friends these days, though Master Bruce will never admit it. Last time he was frustrated with him, he merely called his mother and reported his foolish actions. She refused to feed him pie and lectured him in Master Bruce's stead."

The young man laughed, picturing the scene. To think that the strongest person on Earth was so easily cowed by an elderly woman who made delicious pies! Then again, Alfred could intimidate Batman. He even managed to order Superman around once or twice. Who knew how much influence the man had over the League now? "Before then, I dare say the kryptonite would have come out whenever Master Bruce was mildly annoyed with him.

"Oh dear…"

Dick had to calm down his giggles when the man didn't say anything more on the other end. Even stopped messing with the cube in his hands to try and figure out why the butler had stopped talking. "Something wrong Alfred?"

"It seems Master Timothy has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle."

"What?!" Dick was immediately on high alert. He jumped to his feet, his heart leaping into his throat and lodging itself there in fear for his little brother. Tim was in trouble? Wasn't he supposed to be working out in the gym? What could have gotten past the manor's defenses? Was he okay?

"While attacking the punching bag, the chain broke and it fell on top of him."

Dick stared at the intercom for a moment before face-palming. Bit of a pickle indeed. He was fine. "Don't scare me like that Alf," he said, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"My apologies Master Richard, but he seems rather tired from exertion and is not lifting the sack off of himself quite yet. As this recipe requires my full attention at the stove, I cannot free him. Might you be available?"

He just looked at the intercom for a minute, silent. He knew this was one of their tricks to make him leave that room. Forcing him to deal with things he'd been avoiding. Tim possibly getting sick helped him come to his bedroom and leave the cave. Using a broken sack on him was supposed to make him go to the gym? On his own? "Is this a trick question?"

"I assure you," Alfred continued, keeping his voice calm, "I am quite tied up here. Master Bruce is taking care of a few legal matters at the office and gathering evidence for a case. I do not expect his return until late tonight, and then only to pick up Robin and a fresh uniform. There is an intercom unit inside the gym I can use to warn you with should he make an unexpected visit."

"And a camera that lets you keep an eye on people…"

"Well, yes. It was either a camera or locking the door and not permitting solo work outs. One should not perform dangerous acts without a spotter," the British man advised.

He looked away for a moment. A major rule when using weights or practicing acrobatics was to have someone nearby in case something went wrong. He and Bruce used to ignore it all the time so the camera was implanted.

"And I am the one responsible for the safety of both you and Master Timothy while Master Bruce is away."

Taking a deep breath, Dick stepped to the door he hadn't used since entering that room weeks ago. "Fine. But if Bruce comes back early, keep him in the study until I'm back in here, got it?"

"Indeed I shall."

Not wasting another moment, he flew out the door and down the hall towards where he remembered the gym was. Unless Bruce had moved everything in the past five years, it should be in the west wing, above the study. Darting down the hallways, he barely noted the subtle changes that had occurred in the manor. Some places had been patched up since he left all those years ago, places he didn't think needed repair before. There were a few changes in art and a new stain on a tapestry, but it was the same over all. Just a few signs to tell him another rowdy kid had lived there at one point.

'_Jason must have been pretty active_.' He just couldn't see Tim making holes in the wall like those, nor making messes so big there'd need to be new paint. He was unusually tidy in his visits. The only time he knew Tim had made a mess when he was trying to distract the Titans. On the other hand, he'd deduced from what little information he had of Jason that the second Robin had been an unruly kid. If they had lived together, he had no doubt they'd have a blast pranking Bruce and giving Alfred heart attacks. If only…

Dick stopped rushing just short of the gym, blinking in surprise. It… really wasn't hard going through the manor. Not this time at least. Those drugs must have wreaked some serious havoc on his mind the last time, when he had left the cave. This time around, he only could see how things had changed. He'd spent days in the gym as a kid, building his muscles and practicing his moves so he wouldn't screw up in the field. This hallway was a place full of memories, some alone and some with others. And yet none of them hit him. It was just a hallway.

Why was he so scared of a hallway earlier?

He looked around once then stopped at the gym door. He could remember opening and closing it several times, Alfred coming in to fetch him, seeing Bruce watching through it, but it was just a door. No strong memories kept him away from it. Why had he avoided it? He heard a grunt through it and remembered why he had left his bedroom in the first place.

Quietly, the young man opened the door and looked around to find Tim and the punching bag. Quite a few things had changed in there, mostly updating equipment and opening the place up a bit. All of his gymnastics equipment was exactly where he'd left it. The punching bags though, were on the other side of the room. He deftly moved between weights and cardio equipment to get over there, walking around the mats in the center of the room. The kid was working hard to shove the heavy sack off of him.

"Need a little help?" The older bird leaned over him, smirking slightly.

Tim blinked, probably not believing what he was seeing. "Dick? What are you…?"

"Alfred said you got squished." He inclined his head toward the door. "He's busy in the kitchen and can't come by to help out."

"Mind getting this bag off me then? It's getting hard to breathe!" Annoyance jerked out of his voice, making Dick laugh as he helped remove the bag. His muscles weren't as strong as before but between the two of them they managed to roll it off the new Robin and out of harm's way. Looking at the chain now, he could accept that this hadn't been planned. Wear and tear was the cause. When Bruce had grown careless with it, he couldn't tell, but it wasn't unheard of. He was easily distracted from things like this.

"Thanks." Dick helped Tim to his feet, noting how sweaty the kid had gotten. In just a wife-beater and gym shorts, he was reminded of how scrawny the thirteen year old was. Didn't Alfred say his birthday was coming up soon? Why was he so small?

"No problem."

Tim looked him up and down curiously as he took a towel from the bench against the wall to wipe sweat off his face and neck. "I thought you were staying in your room."

Dick shrugged. "Maybe I just needed a good enough reason to leave it." He moved over to one of the newer machines and smirked. "So, how does this one work?"


	8. Trial

The trial was going well. Well, well enough without including Dick at least. Batman had worked overtime digging up everything on Slade Wilson, AKA Deathstroke the Terminator, to ensure he could not escape punishment this time. He would have loved to get him on charges of kidnapping, torture, abuse, and numerous other convictions regarding what happened to his ward, but that would require revealing his involvement. And the first Robin wasn't ready for that, for any of it.

Thus far, Batman had only been required to appear once in court. The district attorney who was prosecuting was rather good and kept him informed of everything. Even helped in gathering evidence for him. The only time he had to appear was to answer questions about the man's capture. "They say Mr. Wilson had a partner during this event. Is that true?"

As much as the Bat did not want to admit it to the court, he nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Tell me about him." The DA looked from the witness to the suspect to the shielded jury not too far off, waiting for the answers.

Batman took a deep breath before answering, not liking what he had to say. "Renegade is believed to be Deathstroke's apprentice. His true identity remains unknown. Believed to be in his early twenties, never caught, never convicted. He was also instrumental in his… mentor's capture."

"How so?" the defense attorney asked. He waved a hand to the rest of the court, waiting for an answer. "Please describe to us the events of that night."

The Dark Knight gave Slade a long, cold glare, wishing very much that he wasn't in just reinforced handcuffs, weights, and a shock collar to keep him under control. An iron maiden would have been better. "I had heard of a hit being taken up on Mayor Krol in Gotham over two months ago. I had already detoured assassination attempts orchestrated by Slade Wilson, about to be performed by Renegade. A 'final exam' you could say. That night, Two-Face had taken Krol into a new courthouse as a hostage with intent to kill. To make sure he took credit for the mayor's death, Wilson and Renegade charged in and took out Two-Face's men. While Renegade took down Two-Face, I fought Deathstroke. The fight was not going in my favor."

"After all, you are only human. Isn't that right?"

Batman growled. This lawyer liked to rub in the fact that he was a mere mortal doing everything he could rather than a superpowered being. He was an okay guy otherwise, but pointing out his weaknesses in court was annoying. "Yes. Shortly after Two-Face was down, Renegade saw my plight and attacked Deathstroke, shouting all the while. Clearly the fight had brought back bad memories and unsettled him enough to retaliate. I believe Renegade was tortured and manipulated into being Slade's apprentice."

"Objection: conjecture," the defense pointed out.

"I have evidence." Hearing this, everyone's eyebrows raised. He continued without showing all his cards. "What he said while attacking the defendant implied abuse, along with how volatile he was towards him. It wasn't until after I talked him down that he stopped fighting. Had he continued, Wilson would not be alive today."

"And just where is Renegade now?" The DA kept calm as Batman continued. They had discussed this part before.

"Renegade passed out shortly after the fight, entering a catatonic state. I took him to a clinic for immediate medical help. There it was discovered the defendant was using drugs and poisons on his student in order to control him."

"Objection!" The defense was on his feet, outraged. "He hasn't even presented evidence to support abuse accusations, nor do we have a record of this clinic visit! Evidence has not been shared in this matter!"

"Compilation took more time than anticipated," the Bat explained. "I barely managed to attain all these documents this morning."

"And just how is that supposed to help any of us?!" the lawyer continued. "What you say in this matter is—"

"Because of this man, Renegade is dead!"

Everyone in the room stopped, gaping at him in shock. The judge was about to bring down his gavel to retain order in the court, but even he froze in surprise. Slade's jaw dropped a fraction, stunned by the news. What?

Batman had to take a deep breath as he bent the truth in a manner that wasn't lying yet exposed nothing personal. Though he still glared rage at the man who started it all. "The clinic I took him to did not have the means to test what was in his bloodstream but I did. While running the tests he went into horrible withdrawals. Without the drugs running through his system and his master at his side to keep him in line, Renegade couldn't function. I couldn't get back to him with the intel regarding them in time to save him from himself.

"Everything is inside that folder." He pointed to a manila folder on the prosecution's desk. "Blood work, x-rays, autopsy, death certificate. I buried him myself, in a nameless grave. That young man saved my life along with numerous others. I am still trying to find family to notify of his death."

"So…" the DA regained his voice after a moment, swallowing back the dryness that came with his answers."According to your testimony, Renegade's final act was to take down Slade Wilson physically, saving your life and Mayor Krol's. When exactly did he die?"

"Early May, within a few weeks of that night."

"Thank you. Your witness." The DA stepped down for the moment, letting the defense get a crack at the Dark Knight. Let him deal with the terrors that came with him.

"Mr. Batman," the other man started, "I hear you have a junior partner, an apprentice, am I right?"

He took a deep breath before answering. "Yes."

"He's called Robin, correct?"

"He is."

"Just where was he during all of this?"

He had to take another breath. Batman deliberately avoided any acknowledgement of Robin in his official reports, when he actually made them. There were good reasons behind this. "He was there."

"So… you deliberately brought a ten year old to a fight? One where you knew a psychotic madman and two assassins were? Plus about a dozen low level criminals?"

"He's fourteen and I sincerely doubt the likes of you could stop him." Frankly he was tired of people ragging on him about his boys. Did they honestly think he wanted to put them in danger like that? Dick wouldn't sit back and Robin reined him in a bit. Jason wasn't about to let a fight pass him by either, so Robin taught him patience. And Tim! Though he was surely the most cautious one yet, he would not stop hounding him until he was allowed in the field, for _his_ sake. One thing all three boys shared was a will of iron that would not be stopped when it came to being Robin. Batman's training and keeping them close in the field was what kept them safe. It was when they disobeyed orders and wandered off, that they got hurt.

"But you still let him fight."

Another breath. It was taking a lot of self-control to not rip the lawyer's head off. Even more not to lash out at the man who tormented and threatened his boys beyond him. "Yes."

"So who are you to judge my client's methods of training his apprentice?"

"Objection! This has no relevance to the case!"

"I'd actually like to know why Robin was there," the judge stated, glaring slightly at the Dark Knight. He clearly had his own opinions about Robin. "And why he wasn't mentioned earlier."

"Robin was there to get Krol to safety while I handled the attackers. Instead, the defendant threatened to abduct Robin and make him the same as Renegade." This put a stop to everyone's thoughts. Now they were seeing why the boy's part was left out of this. He was protecting him. "Renegade attacked Wilson in order to prevent that from occurring. He shouted that he would not allow him to ruin any more lives. Evidence of abuse. Robin's life being in danger knocked him out of whatever mental state he was in to attack his 'Master', as he called him in his last days. Renegade kept apologizing for what he did to others, said Slade couldn't win, and to keep Robin safe. He didn't just save my life, but my partner's as well. I owe it to him to make sure his tormentor doesn't see the light of day ever again."

This silenced the room completely. Even the concealed jurors were at a standstill behind their tinted glass. They were feeling sorry for this Renegade who was supposed to be like Deathstroke, but died saving the lives of heroes. Winning sympathy wasn't something the defense wanted. He wanted to point out how Batman was the same as his client in regards to apprentices. He had failed to drive his point home.

That was pretty much it for Batman's testimony, and he wouldn't be called in again. Once he was out of the courthouse and on the roof, he waited for prison transport to take Wilson away. He kept hidden and took out his phone to watch the security feed from the manor.

Dick was doing well. Better was an understatement. Alfred said they were talking and he almost sounded like the boy they knew from five years ago, before the argument that drove them apart. He was leaving his room for the gym now, working out with Tim and teaching his successor quite a few tricks Batman never could manage. Robin was improving, but he was also sleeping in the next day much later than normal. The two of them ran around freely in that one bedroom and the gym, but that was all. Dick didn't go anywhere else, and all because he didn't want to face Bruce.

Which was strange since every other night after patrol he was consoling his boy after horrid nightmares. Sometimes Dick said things, usually apologies and pleas to stop whatever was happening to him. He figured the young man didn't know what was going on during those visits, but he would always calm down if Bruce was there. He even snuggled up to him once or twice when the terror passed. Despite being in his early twenties now, Dick was still a child at heart.

Watching the two boys in the gym right then, sparring, he couldn't help but smile affectionately. So much progress since that one night. Yes, technically he lied about Dick being dead, but he said Renegade was the one who died. That persona had died, and now something new was emerging. The man he was seeing now wasn't quite the Robin he'd known all those years ago. It was someone who'd gone through hell but still had hope like his little bird always did. Who Dick would become now, how he'd behave once he regained his courage… it was something he worried and wondered about. His son hadn't quite returned yet. He might never return to tell the truth, but he was getting better. One day this bird would fly again.


	9. Tag

Staying in two rooms and a hallway was getting boring. Dodging Alfred, even more so. It'd been nearly three months since Dick's return and Tim was getting claustrophobic. It was time to up the ante.

"Tag!"

Tapping an unsuspecting Dick on the shoulder then bolting out the door was the plan. Nearly shoving a drinking Dick between weight machines, then fleeing the scene as fast as he could was the end result. He could hear a loud protest behind him but he didn't face it. He had to get out of there before his big brother put him in a headlock or a full body tackle-hug. Both were becoming frequent events and, frankly, he didn't really care for that much human contact.

Tim was nearly out of one hallway and running for the grand staircase when he heard loud running coming after him. A grin grew on his face as he ran as fast as he could. The chase was on, and he wasn't about to lose. He flew down the stairs, heading towards the ground floor library for a shortcut, knowing that the obstacles there and the path he was planning on using would confuse the older bird. Not making his goal obvious would go a long way this time.

He barely made it through the doors before Dick's not quite shouting voice caught up with him. "Don't think you can get away from me kiddo! I've lived here longer and always beat Bruce in hide and seek!"

"He only let you win!" He dived behind a particular bookcase and scaled a ladder to get on top. Jumping from case to case, he prayed the high road would give him an advantage. It didn't last long! The older bird saw him during an ill-timed leap and quickly scrambled up one of the cases, scattering books left and right. Tim yelped as he closed the distance, jumping to a sofa and rolling to the ground to escape pursuit, darting out the far door. Dick followed after him without any difficulty, closing in.

'_Screw the tricks! End game!_' Tim thought as he ran as fast as he could, hoping beyond hope he was right about where this hallway would lead him. Just as he turned a corner leading to the main parlor, he spotted exactly what he wanted. "Alfred! Save me! Save me!"

"Pardon?" The butler raised an eyebrow, a bottle of wood oil in one hand and a good rag in the other. Tim ran behind him and using him as a shield just as Dick rounded the corner. The two birds weren't stopping and both were grinning.

"Dick's gone crazy!" Playful sarcasm filled his voice as he used the old man to block off any tagging. "I think he wants to eat me!"

"Really Master Timothy I—"

"Oh yes! I am going to cover you in peanut butter and chocolate, set you to a broil, and then cut you into tiny pieces!" Dick leapt playfully around the old man, trying to touch the nimble boy barely keeping out of arm's reach with each lunge. "Stay still so I can get you! Oh, hi Alfred. Nice day?"

"As well as could be expected... all things considered…" Alfred raised an eyebrow at the two of them, keeping perfectly still as the two danced around him. The young man briefly looked at him from time to time, but most of his attention was in trying to catch the one who led him there.

"You'll never get me alive!" Tim taunted, still using the old man as a buffer, but being careful not to hurt him.

"Do I want to know what's going on?" the elderly gentleman drawled.

"We'll see about that, Timmy!" Dick made a quick grab for him, only to be dodged again. "Probably not. Nothing's broken yet though. We'll keep property damage to a minimum," he answered Alfred. "I think somebody needs cuddles!" Dick exclaimed, turning his attention back to Tim.

"I'm out of here!" At the thought of cuddles, the boy decided to bolt. Occasional hugs from Dick, he was just getting used to those. He didn't want to know what "cuddles" meant to him. Physical signs of affection were rare, precious things in his life with his parents, and getting more of it from this young man than from them was a bit unnerving. He made sure Alfred was completely between them first, then darted back the way they came, knowing he'd have to think of somewhere else to hide for a bit.

"Scaredy cat!" Dick called after him.

Tim ran back upstairs as soon as he could, hoping Alfred's presence would hold Dick where he was for a while. He did his job, getting those two in the same room together while conscious. They'd been talking for a month. It was about time they saw each other properly again. Plus, it gave Tim plenty of time to hide in the refurnished playroom. Video games, arcade games, a projector, pool, ping pong and air hockey tables, plus numerous other games set up a playroom any student would envy. It also had enough clutter to hide him for a while without being conspicuous.

Looking around the room once, he wondered how much this place had changed since Dick's time. Well, five years ago everyone was on the Game Cube, not the Wii. An X-box was just an X-box then and he was pretty sure Bruce had updated the DDR game too. Everything else had existed back then, didn't it? His memory was a bit hazy. But none of it mattered right then. He needed to find a place to hide, fast!

It took a minute or two, but there was a small gap between the _Pac-Man_ and _Space Invaders_ machines, perfect for a person his size to hide from sight. Of course if Dick found him, he was screwed. He only prayed he'd hidden well enough that the young man wouldn't look there. He slid between the two machines, tight against the wall and thanking Heaven that he was short enough not to be seen from above. Then, he quietly waited, calming his heart rate and formulating plans for when Dick either found him or finished searching the room and moved on.

Twenty minutes seemed to pass and there hadn't been a peep. He didn't hear any taunts being shouted or any running. He couldn't even feel any vibrations in the floor to signify that someone was running. Bored and confused, Tim slid out of his hiding place and looked around. The door hadn't opened. He couldn't hear other doors being opened or checked. Was Dick even searching for him? Had he had a panic attack and fled to his bedroom after meeting up with Alfred?

'_Did I just screw up?_' Some panic entered his chest, making the young bird cautiously open the door and poke his head out. He couldn't hear screaming, crying, or running. No signs of panic attacks, no signs of Dick. Anxious, he started to nibble on his lip, wondering where his brother was.

Carefully and silently, he made his way back to Dick's bedroom. Poking his head through the doorway, he found nothing but the room as they had left it earlier.

He stopped by the gym next, keeping an ear out for a sneak attack. Still nothing, and other than the equipment, the place was empty. The water bottle that Dick had been using earlier was laying in a pool right about where he had been then too.

Scratching his head, Tim tried to think of other places the guy could be. "He could have gone back to the cave…"

"_I will eat your brains…_"

He jerked around violently, trying to find the source of the raspy, spine-chilling voice that'd suddenly appeared. That was really creepy! It sounded almost a combination of a serial killer and ring-wraith. He really hated those wraiths. He'd had nightmares about them after watching that old Lord of the Ring's movie, the cartoon one. The live action one only made the wraith phobia worse. "What?"

"_Brains…_"

Now the voice was crossing wraiths with Golumn. Super creepy. "Whatever you want, I don't have it!"

"_Come here precious…_"

That was all Tim needed to bolt out of the gym and head to the Batcave. He was certain Bruce had some kind of amulet that'd protect him from undead, ring loving, crack addicts. The voice seemed to follow him.

"_Tiiiimmmyyyy…_"

He only ran faster, sliding down the banister in order to get away from it. When did this place become haunted?

"_Tiiimmmyyy…_"

He just turned one corner when he heard his name again, plus a muffled snicker. It was practically in his ear. '_Wait a minute…_'

"_Why do you run?_"

Stopping where he was, he suddenly felt very stupid. He looked over to the intercom he just passed, realizing the light was on. All the intercom lights were on. "Oh for the love of…"

Not waiting for another creepy voiced taunt, Tim marched over to a janitorial supply closet he discovered by accident about a week after he started living there. He doubted Dick cared much for it as a kid, but this teen knew better than to discredit it. It was a mini chemical lab in his mind. He grabbed the Ajax can then headed towards the kitchen, guessing that was where he was being taunted from. Alfred had complete control of the intercom system from there and could check everywhere but the individual bedrooms and cave on the cameras.

Maybe his earlier plan had worked _too_ well. "_Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!_"

"Whatever." Within minutes he was in the kitchen, expecting a ninja sneak attack as soon as he was inside. Instead he found Dick eating cereal at the counter, grinning from ear to ear. Alfred was busy looking through recipe books and making plans for their next couple meals. Tim gave both of them a confused scowl. "What's going on?"

"I got hungry. Want some?" The young man picked up the cereal box next to him, offering some of its sugary goodness. The kid eyed him suspiciously, then the intercom unit on the other side of him. It was still on, but not all the buttons were lit, just the usual ones. The cereal was slightly soggy in its bowl. He must have been teasing him while he ate. The tablet connected to the security system's cameras was within arm's length too. He had _so _been messing with him.

"I think I'll wait for dinner."

"Very good choice, sir," Alfred murmured, writing some ideas down on a piece of paper next to his pile of books. His reading glasses were quite a sight to see too. "One mustn't spoil their dinner."

"And when do you get to eat dinner anyway?" A playful, knowing smirk was on the guy's face as Tim came closer, Ajax carefully out of view, but ready at a moment's notice. "Just before patrol?"

"Something like that. Thought you'd be running to your room by now." He cocked his head, looking over the guy. There were some signs of anxiety, but for the most part, he seemed okay. Maybe listening to the old man for the past month was exactly what he needed before seeing the man in person again after all.

Dick shrugged, setting his spoon aside. His bowl was nearly just milk anyway. "Meh. Not really that interested in staying in there for the rest of my life. By the way," he slid over to the kid, not even trying to hide his playful, yet menacing smile. Tim didn't even have time to bring up the powder he was planning on using on his older brother. Before he could blink, the acrobat tapped his forehead and bolted. "Tag! You're it!"

The teen just stayed where he was for a moment, slightly shocked that he hadn't been able to evade Dick even when he knew what was coming. Where had he learned to be so intimidating and playful at the same time? Was that something Slade had taught him or Bruce? "What the…?"

"Masters Bruce and Richard used to play tag while on patrol," Alfred informed him, a slight smile on his lips as he continued working on his task. He was in a really good mood now, probably because he and Dick were able to talk face to face for about thirty minutes. Tim hadn't a clue what occurred during that time, but it must have been good. "Challenging him to a game may not have been a wise decision on your part."

"How else was I going to get him down here?"

"Leave the cleaner here." Tim was about to charge after the young man who'd become his brother when the old man's voice stopped him. Sheepishly, he put the Ajax on the countertop then ran off. Well, at least one thing went well that day.


	10. Barbara

It was kind of surreal, walking around Wayne Manor after all this time. Five years ago he had walked out those doors, swearing he'd never come back except to visit the graves of his parents. Four years ago, he wanted to run back through them and beg Bruce to help take down Slade. Three years ago, all his pride was gone and he was praying Bruce would get the League and find a way to save his friends and get him away from that madman before he did anything drastic. Two years as his apprentice and the life he'd had back in Gotham was a dream, telling him it was all worth something to someone. And until three months ago, he didn't even think there was a prayer left for him, that he'd be doomed to be Slade's apprentice and lackey superior until his dying day.

Now Dick wasn't just walking around Wayne Manor a free man, but able to talk to Alfred, choose what his day would be like, and managed to have a little brother in the process to cuddle and annoy. A year ago he wouldn't have thought this was possible. He thought he'd be neck deep in blood and body parts. This… This really was surreal.

Once the awkward fear he'd had of seeing and talking to Alfred in person again was knocked out of the way, wandering the halls was something he enjoyed doing. Once or twice he conned Tim into a movie night, and the kid was teaching him how to use new game systems whenever their daily exercise regiments were done. They were nearly always playing or doing specialized training, but when Tim had to do homework, Dick could only do so much with him before getting bored and antsy. At which point he went to Alfred and the two of them would talk.

Which was what he was doing then, trying to find the old man so he could just be with someone he trusted. Slade either had him in isolation or near at hand with his one ally all those years. He may not have wanted to face Alfred or Bruce earlier, but he didn't want them to leave him. The young man was silently hoping those nightly visits Bruce paid him while he was resting or recovering from his nightmares would help ease his subconscious to let him face the man again.

So far, not working. Every time the butler offered for him to talk to Bruce over the phone or intercom, fear and guilt surged through him, making him turn away. He still couldn't face the man he felt he betrayed in nearly every way. And he still owed him for saving his life and bringing him up. How could he face him when he felt like he didn't deserve to be in the same room as him? Dick's head and chest hurt every time he tried to think about it, and it wasn't getting any better. Maybe talking to Alfred about it would help, if he could talk about it at all.

But first, he had to find the guy. One problem about living in such a big house was having to track people down inside it. Alfred wasn't always in the kitchen, and he was pretty certain he'd heard the doorbell ring earlier. Whoever had come and gone in the past half hour had probably kept the man on the ground floor.

Coming down the staircase, he could hear the old man talking to someone. Dick stopped for a minute, his heart catching in his throat. A visitor? Or a phone call? Carefully he made his way to the parlor, listening intently without being heard by the old man's sharp ears. Stealth training always had its perks. Soon, he was just outside the door and heard the other voice. Female, and familiar.

"It is not that I do not enjoy your company, Miss Gordon," the butler stated in a kind tone. "I just don't know if he's willing or able to see you without some kind of violent reaction. He reacted quite violently to his friends the Teen Titans when they unexpectedly appeared. I would let you 'trip' upon him if I could, but Master Robin is also here and Master Richard is finally roaming the house of his own accord. He wasn't originally."

"I saw the test results, Alfred. I know why he acted strange back then." Her voice rang through the air, almost music to his ears. The last time he had heard it, they were talking on the phone. Complaining really. Batman was being particularly difficult and she was trying to make them talk just so he'd let up on her a bit. She, with her superior college classes, had surmised the source of her problem was their argument. They had argued a bit, but Dick had resolved at the end to at least email Bruce a chastising letter so he'd get off her case so much. The following morning was when Slade called.

It was good to hear Barbara's voice again. "What I want to know is why I've been waiting patiently in my tower to be allowed to see him, talk to him, or even come near this place for nearly four months! I get the rules! I get the detoxing thing! I get the trauma even! But when Bruce told me to try and track that signal, I became a part of this! I should have seen him before those Titans!"

"He still retracts from Master Bruce's voice," Alfred told her plainly. "And the Titans were not a choice. Like I said, he was rather violent when he saw them for a brief moment, and could not bring himself to see them while explaining himself and apologizing later. Until two weeks ago, he could not even be in the same room as me. Not while he was awake, at least."

There was some silence, letting Dick feel a bit sheepish for all the trouble he caused all this time. He couldn't do anything right, could he? "But he's better now right? The drugs are out of his system, he's been recovering, and according to the reports, they're keeping Wilson locked up tight. Bruce made certain of it personally. Can't I see him? I've waited…"

'_Probably longer than anyone…_' The young man looked at the ground, remembering all the good times he'd had with Batgirl, with Barbara. Slade never asked for her ID but he was careful with the information anyway. Hearing her voice was all he needed to remember everything he knew about her, and how much fun they had together. If she hadn't gone off to college and he to Jump five years ago, who knew how things would have developed.

She'd waited long enough. He didn't hear Alfred saying he was going to check to see if he wanted her there, he just strolled into the room, a slight smile on his face. Seeing the two of them gape at him in surprise was kind of funny. "Heard we had a visitor! Hey, Babs. Long time no…"

He stopped, his jaw dropping as his eyes grew wide. Coming around the chairs, he didn't notice Barbara wasn't sitting on one of the soft chairs or couches. The girl he had a crush on for years, who saw him as a kid was sitting… in a wheelchair. He had noted her haircut and glasses first, but the chair is what really stood out to him. He couldn't stop staring at her in it.

Barbara broke into a broad grin when he saw him. "Dick! Wow, that's some hair style you're sporting. Just where have you been, Short Pants? Get over here and—"

"What happened?" His breathy, disbelieving voice made her blink. The usually infallible Alfred honestly looked like a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar for once in his proper life. They hadn't told him about this. He'd had no idea… Tears sprang into his eyes as he came towards her ever so slowly, shock growing a pit in his stomach. How did this happen? Why was she in a wheelchair?

The woman's smile was traded for confusion, letting her look between the acrobat and the butler. Quickly she put the pieces together and sighed heavily in annoyance. "You didn't tell him?"

It was Alfred's turn to sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Master Robin felt it was not his place to tell him what had occurred, as he was neither in this profession back then and as the two of you never met. Master Richard hadn't asked what had transpired for Batgirl's retirement to take place, and I had not had reason nor courage to bring it up as of yet. Master Bruce had hoped to explain everything to him when the timing was right but…"

"What happened?" His voice had a little more strength to it this time. Shock and disbelief still consumed him, some guilt starting to settle in. If he had stayed…

"But with everything going on, no one could get around to it. Typical. Dick," Barbara started, giving him a firm look, "whatever is going through your head right now, stop. This definitely isn't your fault. Even if you had stayed, this would have happened." She took his hand now that he was close enough, softening a little. "Sit down, Boy Wonder. I've got quite a story to tell you."

Dick's eyes stayed on the chair a moment longer, then looked at her face. She was older, stronger, but there was also a pain she was concealing, one he knew well in himself and in others. It wasn't there before he left. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her, falling to his knees, weeping for her loss and for not being there when she needed him most, whatever the circumstances. He should have been there for her! He should have…

After a brief second of awkwardness, the redhead wrapped her arms around him as well, returning the hug in full. Had she had anymore tears to shed, she would have joined him as well, but she was done crying for herself. She'd done enough of that already.

The two of them stayed together like that for a few minutes, long enough for Alfred to make a quiet get-a-way, possibly to retrieve refreshments or just to give them privacy. These two were the first partners of the Batman after all. One raised by him, the other inspired to take up her own mantle. Their bond was different than any others.

Once the young man's tears subsided, his grip loosened and he looked up at her, trying to gain strength. "What happened?"

Barbara Gordon took a deep breath and let go of him entirely so he could listen properly. "About seventeen months after you vanished, I retired on my own as Batgirl. Wanted to see what I could do as a civilian before putting the cowl back on. Got a taste for politics for a while and…" She looked away, coming to what had happened. "Dad was visiting my apartment, clipping out Batman and Robin articles for his scrapbook. There was someone at the door and when I answered it…

"It was Joker." Dick's heart turned into a lead weight and dropped into his stomach. Joker. "He… he shot me. Right through the spine. He and his men kidnapped my dad and…"

He took her trembling hands, hoping to give her some strength while controlling his internal rage at the same time. Joker. He shot her. He… She continued after a moment, barely controlling her voice. "His goal was to drive my dad insane. You have to understand that. Batman wasn't his aim, and neither was Batgirl. I was already retired before this happened. He was gunning for my dad. Didn't quite take. Just made the fight more personal for him."

"He hurt you…" Joker did this. He took away Barbara's legs. He killed Jason. He tormented Commissioner Gordon. He did everything he could to torment Batman, and it only became worse after he left.

"Dick." She regained his attention, trying to make him look her in the eye. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. I've gone over it a hundred times. Joker's gotten progressively violent ever since the beginning. You only escaped the worst of it, that's all. There was nothing any of us could do to—"

"You're wrong."

She blinked at him, not quite believing it. "Really?"

Dick looked away, getting off his knees and finally sitting on the couch next to her, his head going into his hands. A thought, a weight that hadn't meant much before, became heavy within him now. His hair only concealed so much of his face as he thought over what he had to say. He hadn't told much of anything to anyone about those four years. One story to Tim, a generalization to Alfred, but really, not anything at all. Nothing like this.

"I could have stopped him." He looked up a little, controlling his breathing as he recalled the incident clearly. "Slade and I had gone through Bludhaven in order to grab a boat and travel Europe. Joker was there, buying some guns from a mob dealer. I saw him.

"Slade gave me the option of killing him then and there, or going to Europe then Africa to practice hunting. I'd been his apprentice for little over a year..." The young man looked at her solemnly, noting how still she'd become and how cold he was just talking about it. "I thought going to Europe was a better trade off. If I had killed him then... you'd be walking and Jason would be alive. I knew what he was capable of. I should have—"

"Get any pictures of Europe?"

Dick blinked. "What?"

"Did you get any pictures on your trip?" Barbara was purposely dodging the subject, irking him.

"I was being dragged around for training! Nearly everything I did was—"

"How about a souvenir?"

"Babs!" He glared at her, frustrated and pained at her nonchalance. "I'm telling you I could have stopped this from happening!"

"And I'm saying you couldn't." She stubbornly folded her arms, glaring at him chidingly. "You're not psychic, faster than a speeding bullet, or a killer. Taking a shot at Joker at what? Seventeen? Eighteen? Dick, you sucked at paintball! And you couldn't even kill a chicken at that farm fieldtrip we went on in high school! What makes you think you seriously could have known or prevented this from happening?! Frankly, I preferred you went to Europe instead of getting blood on your hands! At least then I know you're still the man I knew!"

"But you wouldn't be in this chair if I—"

"I'm still the commissioner's daughter, Birdbrain!" Her glare doubled, reminding him that she was still older than him and able to turn him into jelly at a moment's notice. "I'm a walking target! Maybe even more so than you ever were! You think that was the only time someone's used me to get to Dad? Forgetting how the school got held up once because some nut was after me? Dick, there was nothing you could have done that was worth it! We had a lapse in security and Joker took advantage of it to get at me and my dad. You can't watch out for someone 24/7, no one can. We just have to accept that it happened and move on. I have."

Dick gaped at Barbara as she looked away slightly. She hadn't taken to being confined to a chair kindly. She accepted that it happened as reality, but hadn't really moved on. She was bitter. He knew she was. She said she was fine, but she wasn't. She just didn't let it keep her tied down forever. Joker wasn't going to control her life. "And you need to too."

"Barbara..."

"I may not be Batgirl anymore, but I still fight crime in my own way." The redhead looked back over to him, trying to hide her insecurities as she spoke to him. "Remember how good I was at computers back when you were in pixie boots? I've gotten better. Batman's got nothing on me now. I go by Oracle these days, and I'm the Justice League's database along with one of the top hackers in the world."

"Oracle..." Vaguely he remembered talking to Tim about those earrings he used to have. He said Bruce gave them to Oracle. He thought he was talking about the computer Wonder Woman and her Amazon sisters used. They were sent to Babs?

"Bruce and the League really depend on me these days. It's not a bad life, just..." She drifted off, smiling sadly. She didn't mind being Oracle, but she missed being Batgirl.

"Not the life you wanted." Dick looked over her sadly, knowing the feeling. He wanted to be Robin forever, and then Slade came and made him Renegade. The difference, Oracle was a force for good. He wasn't. "I'm sorry."

"Dick." His old crush lifted his bowing head to face her. A glare had returned to her face, but not very severe. "Stop blaming yourself for every little thing. You got caught and coerced by a bad man to be his slave for a few years. Everything you weren't here for isn't your fault and no one will blame you for what happened. So stop blaming yourself."

He just looked at her for a while, accepting her words at last. He really couldn't blame himself forever, no matter how tempting it was. Still his head drooped. "I wish I'd been here instead."

"Me too, Boy Wonder. Me too."

They sat in silence, not knowing what to say though there was much to talk about. Dick still felt he should have been in Gotham back then. He may not have been able to prevent Barbara from being hurt, but he could have helped her through her recovery. The chair didn't make her any less wonderful in his eyes; it just hurt to see her hurting.

The stray thought made him think. It hurt him to see her in so much pain because he cared so much for her. Others were hurting because he was in pain too. He didn't want to hurt those he cared for any more than he already had. Dick had to get better, for everyone around him. He would, somehow.


	11. Reunion

Tim couldn't believe all the things Dick was asking him about these days while they were training. Well, he couldn't believe the guy could perform so many acrobatic tricks and martial arts moves and ask questions and listen to answers all at the same time, to tell the truth. He always became breathless and needed breaks. But not Dick. He didn't take breaks, or at least not very long ones.

He claimed he was out of shape too. Liar.

Problem was Tim didn't have the answers he wanted. At least, not all of them. Scratching his head, he tried to recall what major heroes had reportedly been severely injured or killed. If he had any names or stories on the how, when, or why, he had to tell as well. Though the guy understood why he hadn't told him about Oracle and the wheelchair, (Tim had only known that she was retired as Batgirl and shot by Joker before becoming the League's go-to girl) he didn't like being kept in the dark. The crime fighting community is their family, and he wanted to know everything.

Too bad he was asking the wrong person. "Um... well the Justice Society was put back together again. That's something. There's three Green Lanterns running around, and Mist... Bruce complains about two of them all the time."

The acrobat laughed on his bar. "That's Bruce for ya. Always complaining about Hal's idiot ideas. Said he never had any imagination. Eggbeaters and baseball bats! This other guy must be a complete idiot or jerk if Bruce complains about him as much as he does about Hal. I always liked Hal myself."

"The other one's name is Guy Garner. Former football player I think." He scratched his head in thought. "So far, I haven't heard of too many people who know him and like him. He's never been here before."

"Don't bet on him ever coming over. Who's the third Lantern?"

"John Stewart. Former Marine and architect."

"Oh... I can see Bruce liking him already." Dick hung upside down from his bar, arching his back to form almost a perfect ring around the bar so he look at him even though his back had been to him. "Ex-military means smart, tactical, used to using strong weapons instead of random objects, and expects the same from good officers. Any other major changes?"

"I think something happened with the Flash and Kid Flash but I don't know the details." Tim really didn't know the details about a lot of things. As a kid, he'd been so focused on Gotham's Dynamic Duo, on memorizing every factoid possible about detective work, crime fighting, vigilantism and Gotham's psychotic villains that he'd never had time to think about all the other heroes out there.

Mentioning the Flashes though, made the circus kid grin broadly. "Barry and Wally! How are they doing?"

"No idea. But..." He tilted his head slightly, looking over at the young man cautiously. He looked like a girl playing on the jungle gym at the park. Why hadn't he cut his hair? "As far as I can tell, there isn't a Kid Flash anymore."

"What?!" Confusion ruled the acrobat's face. "Why not?! Wally was always loved being KF! And he loved his uncle to death!" He dropped to the ground and leaned against one of the polls as he looked at Tim inquiringly, knowing he'd mostly been talking to himself. "Last time we talked, he was excited about heading to college and majoring in forensic science in Keystone. Why on earth would he retire?"

The kid shrugged, hopping they could change subjects soon. He was _so_ not the right guy to talk to about these things. "Beats me. But I'm not planning on being Robin forever."

That seemed to take Dick for a spin. "What?"

"Well-"

The doors of the gym flew open and a blue and red blur flew in, nearly tackling Dick to the ground with a hug. "DICK! YOU'RE BACK!"

Tim jolted back in surprise as Superman, in full costume, held the former Robin in a strong hug, overjoyed and relieved to see him again. Dick, on the other hand, was sputtering in surprise. "C...Clark?"

"You remember me!" Impossibly, the alien's broad grin grew even bigger. How much had Bruce told him?

"Kinda hard not to." He tried to move and couldn't. "Uh, Clark? Can you let go? It's getting hard to breathe."

"Oh, sorry." Quickly, the Kryptonian released him from his chest, but not from his grip. His hands stayed on the young man's shoulders as he looked him up and down. "Wow, you've grown! I remember when you were this tall!" He gestured to where his waist was, his eyes sparkling with memories. "And now, you're nearly as tall as Bruce!"

"Nearly." A slight smirk came to Dick's face. "Don't think I'll ever get there. You haven't changed at all."

Superman laughed. "Don't tell Lois that. She'll be the first to say I've gotten over a few of my issues."

"What does Lois have to do with anything?" Confusion ruled Dick's face for a moment.

Tim was feeling like a third wheel and so, started slipping away. Dick wasn't going to have a panic attack because of Superman after all. It appeared that staying away from people for nearly four months while gently easing back into the swing of things was doing wonders for him after all. He could talk to Alfred in person, went to Barbara Gordon on his own, and now, an unexpected old friend, who was practically family, popped up unannounced and Dick was fine. Next step would be getting him to talk to Bruce, right? Robin's work was nearly done here.

"Oh, we're getting married."

"MARRIED?!"

"Yep!" The Man of Steel was shining. "Next spring! Her dad's a big wig military guy, so we had to schedule it for nearly a year away."

"Wait," Dick held up a hand, trying to get a handle on things, "Is she getting married to Superman or Clark Kent?"

"Both."

"She knows?! About time!" He slapped the hero's shoulder lightly, grinning. "Did she figure it out on her own or did you tell her?"

"Well..."

A red blur zoomed past Tim who was nearly out the door, shocking him slightly. "Great... another one..."

It stopped just next to Superman, ready to take Dick up into a hug as well. "Dickybird! Where have you been?!"

"Flash?!" Dick turned to the speedster, utterly confused. "What the... you sound like Wally."

"I am Wally, Birdbrain! Come here!" Laughing, the former Kid Flash gave his best friend a tight hug, hastily returned by the other. "Man, I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." He leaned into the speedster's hug, holding onto him as if he yearned to stay there for a long time. Tim could tell, even from the doorway, that they were the very best of friends. He wished he had one like that. Dick shook his head and eased away from Wally after a minute, perplexed. "But, I don't get it. Why are you Flash? What happened to Barry? Did he retire to raise a family?"

Flash and Superman exchanged looks, looking almost worried about something and a bit puzzled. It was clear they thought he knew something he obviously didn't. It sparked a question in Tim's mind too, forcing him to step forward instead of leaving. "I'm more curious how you two found out about Dick being here. Last I knew, Batman was keeping it a secret for his sake."

"Uh..."

"We should probably sit down." Wally lowered his cowl as if it were a hood, the material pooling around his shoulders as he looked around for some place to sit. There were plenty of open benches, but none were terribly comfortable. "This may take a while."

Dick nodded, leading them to a set of machines that were fairly comfortable. "Over here. How did you guys..."

"I heard your voice while in the cave," Superman admitted, sitting down lightly. Dick took another one nearby and Wally a third. Tim stayed standing. He wouldn't be there long. These three had a lot of catching up to do. "I was asking for Bruce's help on a case and-"

"Bruce is home?" A note of fear crept into Dick's voice, baffling the two Leaguers present.

"Yeah, down in the cave. Surprised he didn't follow us up here after-"

"He'll stay there." Tim stepped in, trying to keep Dick from panicking. The heroes didn't know about their friend's aversion to seeing Bruce at the moment. "He'll wait until you're ready to see him again."

Dick breathed out slowly, calming himself. Disaster averted. Still, it left a lot of explaining to do on their part. Wally asked the question first, looking at his best friend with worry. "Um... Why does he have to stay in his cave? Are you two fighting or-"

"Personal psychological reasons." Robin continued to play referee, much to the adults chagrin. "So, Superman was asking for help on a case and heard Dick's voice. How'd you find out? The Teen Titans?"

The speedster gave Tim an inquiring glare, not sure how to place him. Good. Keeping people guessing gave him an advantage. "Batman asked me to come over to help with some tests. He said he needed an extra set of hands and Robin was busy working on an important case..." Understanding lit in his eyes, clearly realizing what the 'case' was now, looking over to his best friend. "Oh. I see. Um... After getting here, I saw the two of you talking on the monitor and just ran up here."

"Why weren't we told?" Superman demanded. "We've been looking for you every chance we get! How long have you been back?"

Dick gave a weak laugh. "I'm... kinda crazy now. Four months?"

He looked to Tim for confirmation. He nodded and shrugged. "Roughly. Mid May."

"Yeah..." He looked down. "I was a big mess back then. I'm still a mess, really. At first, I wouldn't leave the cave infirmary or talk to anyone. I was drugged pretty badly too. I'm clean now, but still mentally and emotionally unstable. Tim here has been helping me get back on track. I'm not really ready for visitors."

The Leaguers looked at each other in concern, seeing they may have made a mistake by coming. Tim decided to chase that idea away. "You seem fine with them. I... better get you guys some drinks. Requests?"

"Got anymore soda?" A slight smirk came to Dick's face, recomposing himself nicely. The guy was easily unsettled.

"I think we drank it all. Only the Alfred approved drinks are left." That brought smiles to everyone's faces. Alfred must have started the 'healthy only' rule when he was born. In the end, they all asked for water bottles and the boy rushed out of the room, eager to leave them to get reacquainted.

To his surprise, he saw Bruce and Alfred in the kitchen, technically making the young teen a liar. Well, he was getting pretty good at lying anyway so, why not? The two of them were watching and listening to the three of them talking. Dick was sobbing on the screen, making Tim regret leaving him like that. What did those two say to make him cry?

"He just learned about Barry Allen's death."

That stopped the boy from running back out of the room. What? Bruce continued, watching the screen thoughtfully at the counter while Alfred busied his hands polishing silver. Neither of them were in good spirits. "The Flash before Wally died saving the universe. A power hungry enemy the Guardians of Oa made was trying to use his speed as energy for a machine to rewrite the universe. Barry reversed the polarity and tore the thing to pieces. Doing so accelerated his metabolism to eating himself from the inside out. He withered away and died. It was before Barbara retired from Batgirl, but it was also one reason she did."

Bruce sipped his coffee, blank faced as he looked at the screen. Dick's reaction to the news was clear as day. He was not taking this well. After a moment, the man continued explaining to Tim without looking at him. "His wife, Iris, had been murdered less than a year earlier. Kid Flash had quit because of an accelerated metabolism problem linked with growth, but after helping save the world that day, it somehow fixed itself. Wally took up his uncle's mantel, like he promised when he first became his partner. The Flash you've known is the third, like you."

The three in the kitchen just watched the three on the screen for a minute in silence before Tim spoke. "Is he going to be okay?"

Bruce gave a long sigh. "I don't know. A lot has changed in four years. Some things for the better, others for the worse. Quite a few died in that crisis. I think what happened to the Flash is the last big one he had to know about. I was hoping to tell him in person."

"We have hoped for a great many things, Master Bruce." Alfred set the silver knife he was working on off to the side, also saddened by what had transpired over the past few years. "Only a few became reality. Master Richard's return and recovery among them. We should be thankful for that."

"I am. Every day." Bruce looked down into his coffee, as if it held all the answers. "I just wish I had protected him better back then."

"And I wish you both would stop living in the past."

Sensing he was about to witness an argument or chastisement (learning from Dick that Alfred was the only one who could set Bruce straight most days was helpful), Tim made his escape. He had drinks to deliver after all. And school to prepare for. Summer vacation didn't last forever.


	12. Rooftop

It'd been a long time since Dick had been outside, let alone on rooftops. Summer was winding down and school had started up, leaving him alone in the manor with Alfred and all the wonderful toys of the rich life. He really missed having Tim on hand all the time. The kid helped him not think about all the things swimming in his head.

Now he was alone with his thoughts at sunset, watching the cove from the roof. He liked to do that all the time when he was a kid, just to think. Alfred couldn't reach him there, there were no cameras or intercoms, and he'd be able to hear Bruce coming if he was ever looking for him. Hiding one night up there was fun back at the beginning. Drove the man nuts. Eventually they agreed it was his private place, somewhere he could think all he wanted. A sensor on the roof only confirmed he was there and that was it. There, he was alone.

He needed to be alone, really alone, to think. So much had changed in four years. Barry, dead. Wally, Flash. Clark, engaged to Lois. Roy, a DADDY! (that short visit really sent him reeling for a minute, but Lian was adorable! Who cared if her mom was a criminal? Roy was raising her) Donna, married! Garth, engaged. Barbara, crippled and now Oracle. And these were just people he knew before Slade.

Jason Todd, died as Robin. Tim Drake, current Robin.

So many changes. So many things he'd missed. He wished he could have been there at Donna's wedding. Been there for Lian's christening. Been there for Barry's funeral and to help Wally. Been there to help Barbara after she was shot.

To actually meet Jason and be a brother to him.

So many things he missed, but that was the one thing he wished most of all he could have done. Possibilities of what could have been kept swimming around his head, starting with the Teen Titans (old and new) and ending with how he could have made a difference in Gotham, particularly with Bruce and Jason. Wishes and dreams were overwhelming him consciously, but then what had actually occurred in his life struck from his subconscious.

The past four years for him were consumed with death, pain, and crime. Being a part of it instead of fighting and defending against it. Learning he was tricked into giving up all that time hurt him more than anything else. Slade stole his life! Nearly murdered him! Forced him to swear loyalty to him in exchange for people's lives, to brand himself a traitor to everything he believed in. Guilt and anguish ate at him every time he thought of it.

He'd tried to end it a few times back then but it never went far. The scars weren't pink anymore, but they were still there. He still wouldn't let Tim see them. He couldn't. He didn't want the kid to know just how broken he was then, not after helping him get this far already. He wanted to be the best big brother the kid could have. Just like he wanted to be the best son to those who raised him. He'd failed at one; he didn't want to fail the other.

Which was why he hid on the rooftop to think. Couldn't let Tim see how weak he still was. How dependent he was on people. Around the kid, he would hide it with smiles, jokes, and cuddles. Those actions also bugged the boy so it was a bit more enjoyable. But alone... He realized how much he missed his family as soon as Tim went back to school and Alfred busied himself with household chores. He knew hiding his dependency from Alfred was useless, but he didn't want to obligate the man either. The butler had other things to do.

So he hid there, thinking. Of the past, of what happened, of what he'd learned... Sometimes his thoughts drifted to nothingness, just watching the cove and the setting sun.

It was nearly gone over the horizon when he heard a roof tile being scuffed. Someone needed to practice residential rooftop stealth. Slade would have stripped him bare after a beating and stuffed him in a trunk for a few hours for that. Alerting your target to your presence was a big no-no among assassins and hunters. Bruce's 'repeating the exercise until it's perfect' method was much more preferable.

The kid wouldn't have lasted a week under Slade's training. Especially with that heavy breathing. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight." Tim's breathless voice came closer, along with many more scuffed tiles. One cracked and a piece slid just past him. The kid sounded exasperated as he came up from behind him. "Have you been up here this whole time?!"

Dick shrugged. "Since two I think. George the gargoyle gives plenty of shade here. I forgot the days are longer in the summer and lost track of time."

"What are you doing up here?!" The boy came closer to him, coming up to his left side. Worry was in his voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Cabin fever," he admitted. "And I like high places. This is one of the highest places in the manor, and the least accessible. If I ever wanted to be alone for a while, this was my place. Bruce would just seal up the cave and Alfred would just put a bar over the kitchen door. Everyone needs a hole no one disturbs. Where's yours?"

"Probably my house if I ever feel like visiting it." Tim stood next to him now, and even though he couldn't see the kid's face, he had a pretty good idea how he was watching him worriedly. "Why'd you come up here?"

"Needed to think."

"Dick..." The young bird sighed heavily. "You've been thinking and dwelling on things for four months! I'd think you'd be sick of it by now. Seriously, why are you-"

"Cabin fever," he repeated. "And I really missed seeing the skyline."

"For six hours?"

"Time flies." Internally, he sighed. "And after you've lost track of it to a madman, it's easy to lose half a day."

"Bruce is downstairs with Alfred." That got Dick to stiffen a bit. Maybe he _had_ been out there too long. "We've been looking for you everywhere around here and they're talking about searching Gotham next. You could have left a note or something."

"Roof had a sensor last I checked," he admitted. "Security was usually one of the first things Bruce checked in the past. He knows I like it up here."

"Dick-"

"Ya know," the young man started before the kid started a tirade, "I've been thinking about everything you've told me, everything everyone's told me. A lot's happened, a lot I'd have nothing to do with if I stayed. I'm really beginning to see things a little clearer. My life would have been a lot different if things hadn't gone south for me, but few others. I don't even know if I could have prevented Jason's death, or even you becoming part of this life."

"Come again?" Tim blinked at him owlishly, clearly not understanding.

"There are just a few things I don't get," he continued, ignoring the interruption. Dick looked over to Tim for a moment, bringing up some detail that bothered him. "You were three when we first met right? How can you remember it so clearly?"

"Huh?"

"I can't remember being three, and I can barely remember you from that day." It really was a head scratcher. "Other than Zucco and their deaths, I can't remember a lot about it period. How come you do?"

The kid watched him for a moment, then took out his phone, sighing as he sat down next to him. He must have learned fast the guy wasn't going to move for a while and started texting Bruce. "I've got a good memory. A really good memory. I wish that was my only answer or that being traumatized by it was the other one, but it isn't."

The acrobat watched him finish a message to Bruce as he collected his thoughts and spoke again. A slightly sad look crossed his face. "My parents... they weren't really around much while I was growing up. Work, you know. They were always off doing some kind of meeting or at an archeological dig or big charity. I went to all day preschool and kindergarten until I went to Britewood, and Mrs. Mac, our house keeper, watched me when they were away.

"I remember that day really well because it was one of the few days in my life we were all together." An endearing smile came to his face as he remembered, looking off to the coast. "We didn't have many of those. The entire day, it was just the three of us. No work, no elite social event, just the three of us having fun together. I was so happy that day for that reason alone. I remember holding both their hands walking in, getting a balloon animal, Mom freaking out at a clown while Dad laughed... I think I took its nose. We played a few games, went on a ride or two, took a few photos, and then we ran into your family. Up until your parents' deaths, it was a perfect day."

Dick watched the kid as he talked, somehow recognizing the story. Bruce had something similar with his parents and the day they died. It had been a perfect day. Difference; the Waynes were there more often with Bruce than the Drakes were for Tim. Martha Wayne helped charities from home, as Alfred told him once, all so she could be there for her son. And his dad, Thomas, stayed close as a surgeon instead of abroad as a business man for much the same reason. In comparison to the Waynes, and the Graysons, who were always there for him due to the nature of their career, the Drakes seemed quite neglectful of their young son.

Mulling over this thought, he realized Tim had a very lonely childhood. If a memory linked with a tragedy that shaped his future was so vividly remembered because of it, the kid really needed to make some new memories. How could the Drakes leave Timmy alone like that? No wonder the kid said all those things before. Bruce was a much better father than this kid's. He needed Robin in order to have a childhood, and that was saying a lot.

'_If his dad ever wakes up from his coma I'm giving him a piece of my mind._' Was it a bad thing he was wishing the man never did? Maybe Bruce would take him in permanently then, even adopt him. Kid would be much better off.

Tim shifted a bit where he was, smiling sadly. "Guess I won't be having any days like that again, will I? Even if Dad wakes up, his nerves are going to be a mess. The doctors say he may be paralyzed for life or for a couple years, but they won't be able to tell until he wakes up. But even then..."

He rested his chin on his knees, now looking at the horizon as well. He seemed so lonely... Now Dick was feeling bad, wishing his father wouldn't wake up. Tim loved his parents, flaws and neglect included. His dad may get a second chance with him, but his mother never would. He nearly lost both of them and it shook the kid to the core. Both of them understood how different life was without their parents.

After sitting in silence for a while, just looking at the horizon, Dick started to whistle. He wasn't the best singer in the world, but he was a fair whistler. A song had come to mind, and he hoped whistling it would help both of them lighten the mood. After a verse, Tim started to sing it softly.

"They paved paradise, and put in a parking lot. Took all the trees and put them in a tree museum. Now people pay a dollar and a half to see them. Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. Paved paradise, and put it a parking lot."

The young man smirked to himself. Tim had a good voice. He decided to join in, even though he didn't know half the words. "Something something, put away the ADTs... Don't need no box or the apples, leave me the birds and the bees, please!"

That got the boy to choke. "Those aren't the words!"

"It's hard to understand what he's saying at that point!"

"Then look it up." Tim started to pass his phone over to him to use the internet but Dick pouted childishly at it, refusing.

"No. I'm crazy. Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." He grinned at the frustrated boy, who was no longer thinking about his parents now. Success. "They paved paradise and put in a parking lot."

"Wish they put in a burger joint." Tim's stomach growled, loudly. His face took on a pleading look. "Can we please go inside and get dinner now? I've got patrol in an hour, where I'll be running into real crazies."

"I am a real crazy." He pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand to his younger counterpart. "I used to run around rooftops in a leotard and pixie boots with a big guy in a bat costume, kicking clowns and killing plants." That won him a quick laugh as Tim accepted the help up. "Come on, I'll show you the easy way down. And try to step where the shingles meet; more support and much quieter."

"Kay." The two of them started their short trek back into the building, pushing aside dreary thoughts as best they could. Dick felt his successor had quite a few good points. He _had_ been thinking too much. The problem was there was so much to think about. He had accepted a lot of what had happened was out of his hands, but he wasn't about to forgive himself just yet.

He just didn't know when or how.


	13. Unexpected

Sorry for the delay. Beta's been having some medical problems. Please pray for undecidable and her family.

* * *

School was boring. He wanted to sleep. It was even more difficult to stay awake in class when he had patrol the entire night before. Well more than patrol. Jarvis Tetch was on the rampage again and while his mind controlled goons were busy fighting Batman, Robin was taking down the Mad Hatter. Normally it'd be the other way around, but Hatter couldn't fight worth beans and all he really had to do was destroy his control device to end the fight for the Bat.

Unfortunately the search and fight took all night long. He changed into his street clothes, grabbed his backpack, and was right out the door as soon as he made it back to the batcave. Didn't even get to grab a lunch on the way out. Thank heavens Alfred always thought ahead and put leftovers in his bag. The only reason Tim got a shower at all was because of PE and the class had woken him up for a while.

But now, at the end of the day in math, he was ready to pass out. At least it wasn't a test he was falling asleep in the middle of, just a basic overview of what they covered last term. They had to make sure the students hadn't forgotten the old material before driving the new stuff into their heads. Not like any of it was new to him though. Math was always an easy subject for Tim, and he used to look at his father's old textbooks at home when he was bored. It was always one class he could sleep through, if the teacher allowed.

This one didn't.

A ruler snapped against his desk, startling him out of his daze. A few students nearby snickered. His teacher looked down on him narrowly. "Problem twenty-seven on the board, Mr. Drake."

Tim blinked then looked at his paper. Nodding once he took his paper and got out of his seat for the routine humiliation of his age, which wouldn't be that humiliating for him. He quickly wrote out the problem (|-2x - y + 3| x = 3 y = 5) then solved it (8) with little to no work next to it. He only had to prove he didn't use a calculator for it after all. Once he was done on the board, he put the marker down and went back to his seat, certain he could make it through the rest of this class and to the bus to Wayne Tower. There he could crash on Bruce's office's couch until it was time to go back to the manor.

His teacher's eyes narrowed slightly, pouting a bit. The man wanted to properly humiliate the teen, like everyone else. This one was famous for giving out detentions and made it a goal to put everyone there at least once in his class. Other than dozing in class, Tim was a perfect student. He was this guy's ideal challenge.

'_Maybe I should let him catch me sleeping in class just to get it out of his system._' The teen wonder was tired of it. All of it. If Bruce didn't need backup during that night's case, he would have been sent back around midnight. All nighters sucked.

Thankfully the last bell rang and he was free. Faster than most, Tim was out the door, grabbing his skateboard from his locker and hitting the streets. If he moved fast enough, he could make the next bus downtown. One transfer more and he'd be getting some much earned rest while waiting for his ride to be done playing businessman for the day. Alfred was watching Dick at the manor after all and he wasn't really ready to be left 100% alone in that place. Bruce slept while the butler dropped off Tim in the mornings and the CEO would take him back in the evening. It was part of a plan (or vain hope) to get the young man to finally face Bruce.

So far wasn't really working. If he wasn't half awake and terrified of the things running though his head, Dick wanted to be as far away from his former mentor as possible.

'_There has to be a way around that,_' Tim thought to himself as he passed one corner and spotted construction. He glared at the barrier blocking his usual route, hating how these things came up overnight. He turned into an alleyway to bypass it, still deep in thought. '_Maybe Bruce should start talking to him over the intercom. Get him used to his voice again. It's September for pete's sake. Does he plan on staying in seclusion during-_'

"OOF!"

Without warning something appeared right at stomach level, knocking the wind out of him. His skateboard kept on rolling but he didn't. The thing was an arm, and it was very much connected to a man. A large one in a dark jacket. He had his arms wrapped around the teen's body before he could regain his breath, making it very difficult to move. Almost impossible to escape, even for Robin.

'_Crap._' Tim focused on breathing and making sure he didn't pass out as two more men came out of the shadows, both wearing hockey masks over their faces. One had grabbed his skateboard. The only consolation he felt from seeing them like this was his chances of living and not dealing with a psychopath went down greatly.

Still, being kidnapped outside of costume sucked.

"Well well well! If it isn't the double millions boy! What are you doing outside your limo kid?" One of the men in front of him started.

The comment made him blink. "I think you've got the wrong guy."

They laughed, even the big guy holding him. "No, you're the right one. Timothy Drake, heir apparent to Drake Industries, ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne. You're worth ransoming twice."

'_Double crap._' He forgot that people would be after him. Both his parents and Bruce had kept him out of the media so he could lead whatever life he wanted on his own. Very few people outside a certain circle recognized him in Gotham, and next to no one outside it. These guys had good intel, but didn't they know no one in Drake Industries would pay up? Not after what happened with his parents. And Bruce would just rescue him, forget money. "No! You're wrong! No one will- Mhmmm!"

The big guy covered his mouth, speaking at last. His voice was low and creepy, driving fear into the sleep deprived boy. "Shut up kid. Be good and you'll be able to see your sugar daddy in two days' time. Be bad and..."

One of the other guys laughed as Tim started to see dark spots. The big guy was suffocating him! "Yeah, we've got a great plan B for you kiddo if you make us mad or they don't pay up. You know what they make scrawny guys like you into in prison?"

Instantly the boy's heart jumped into a panic, making his lack of air even worse. He'd be blacking out soon, but what the man said next only confirmed his suspicions. "Hear pretty boys like you go for a good price overseas. We'll get our money, one way or a-"

Black took him and all his senses, except petrified dread.


	14. Ransom

It started with a phone call. Dick hadn't thought anything of it when Alfred picked up the phone and said it was 'Master Bruce'; he just turned around and walked as fast as he could in the opposite direction. It wasn't until he saw the worried expression on the old man's face while he worked on dinner that he wondered what was said during the call. "What's up Alf? They run out of your favorite tea?"

"Master Timothy is late returning to the office." For a moment his heart stopped but it was pushed aside as different possibilities, good ones, raced through his mind. The butler kept talking. "Master Bruce checked his phone's GPS and I found it in his room, still plugged in."

"He probably forgot it, what with patrol going late. Maybe he fell asleep in class and is in detention." Then again detention would be over and done with by now. "Or maybe some of his friends dragged him to some Wizards and Warlocks game. Those could take all afternoon." But he would have called one of them to tell them where to find him later. "People used to make me sub for them in different clubs. Maybe someone's trying to get him involved at school." Again Tim would borrow someone else's phone and call ahead. "Or maybe he fell asleep while sitting on the bus on the way to Wayne Tower." Likely, but he would have been shaken awake by the driver by then.

Alfred 'hmm'ed critically at each idea, letting the young man make his own conclusions. These were the positive possibilities. They didn't want to consider the negative. "He's probably just running late."

The subject was dropped and the two of them focused on dinner and the impromptu cooking lesson. Fifteen minutes later the front door slammed and a large body rushed in, coming towards the kitchen. Instinctively Dick ducked behind the island, hidden from the doorway and the man coming towards it. He wasn't ready for him.

"Alfred!" Bruce's voice roared, coming closer. "Did anyone ring the doorbell or knock since four today?

The old man glanced once at the hiding young adult at his feet, then to his employer. "I am afraid not. Why would..." His eyes grew wide, falling silent as they locked onto something. Dick looked up to him for a moment, his curiosity overriding his fear at the pause and knew something was horribly wrong. "Where was that?"

"The front door." There was a worried growl in the man's voice, one he hadn't heard that often. His discussion with Alfred came back to the forefront of his mind and the acrobat blanched. It couldn't... he carefully peeked around the island and looked up to where Bruce was standing. He was holding Tim's skateboard, the one he saw him riding back when he was casing City Hall as Renegade.

The kid was nowhere in sight.

"It came with this." A piece of paper was shown to Alfred as Dick darted back into hiding, hands over his mouth. He had to stop his panic attack and listen. Listen carefully and find out what happened. Who had kidnapped Tim and what did they want? "I had a phone call from the kidnappers telling me that if I wanted Tim back, I had to go home. I received a call while driving from Flanders at Drake Industries, saying they had Tim's backpack and a note. Special courier."

"We should call Commissioner Gordon at the very least-"

"No cops being involved gives Batman more room to breathe. No one will tie my hands if we play it this way."

"They're telling you to correlate with his father's company." A commanding tone entered the old man's voice. Dick looked up to him in surprise. Was that normal for a ransom? Then again, Tim came from a rich family and was taken in by a rich man. He, and even Jason, came from much humbler origins. If a kidnapper could double dip, he would. "That will take more time than you-"

"Talk to Lucius. The two of you can figure it out."

"That will not be enough. I am no longer the manager of your estate, nor am I a holder of his. DI will not recognize myself or Mr. Fox as representatives for you and they will not listen to us on Timothy's behalf. They barely agreed to pay the ransom on his parents as you recall. I doubt they will agree to pay even a reasonable amount for a boy they hardly recognize. We will need Bruce Wayne."

There as a silent pause, making the young man at their feet really wish he could read the note in question. The only reason he hadn't already was because Bruce was there. He had to see it. See if he could help. Corporate sharks didn't seem to want to and Batman was ready to go after him right then and there. Tim...

"Twenty-four hours. If I can't find a lead in twenty-four hours, I'll come in person to handle DI. Get our part ready and do what you can in the meantime. Dick," the acrobat jumped at his name, not thinking, "breathe in three counts, hold it for three, let it out for three. Stay in the manor and help Alfred from here. We will get Tim back."

He heard Bruce walk away, headed towards the study and the cave below. Batman was going straight to work, determined to get his partner home. The young man on the kitchen floor stared at the tile blankly, automatically doing the breathing exercise while thinking things over, his thoughts scattered.

Tim was missing. Kidnapped. They wanted money from both Bruce and the Drake's company. Batman was going after them immediately. Alfred would get what he could together in case Batman failed. In 24 hours, Bruce would make certain the backup plan, the exchange, would happen. Closest thing to proof of life they had was a note and the skateboard. DI didn't like paying ransoms. Both of them seemed rattled but could keep their heads together. How did they manage it? Tim was missing!

A withered hand landed on his shoulder, drawing his attention to the present. Alfred was trying to reassure him, but Tim was missing! His little brother was missing! How did they keep their heads like this? "We will get Master Timothy back home Master Richard. Trust me."

"How can you be so sure?" He felt so lost... how could he be so calm?

"Because you came back." That made him blink. What? "Every time you were taken away, you have come back. Remember how you were taken from us? Rather frequently for a while. I believe there were three kidnappings in a single month. That must have been a record."

Dick blinked in confusion once again, recalling his many abductions in his youth. Not just because he was Robin, but because he was Bruce Wayne's ward. Most only lasted two to three hours. One lasted a week, but that was as Robin. Dick Grayson was always rescued faster, and taken by lower level criminals. "No... seven times in one day was the record. I kept getting taken by another thug and just gave up fighting or reasoning with them until they took me to a secure location and stayed there. Bruce came in during two of them and got a mild concussion going from trunk to trunk..."

"But he still found you." The old man gave him a reassuring smile. "It may have taken four years to find you this last time, but the circumstances were very different. This situation is like many of your previous ones. We know what we're doing. Master Timothy will be found and safely returned to us.

"Now do me a favor." Alfred nodded towards the front entrance. "Master Bruce probably left the car out front, on and idle. Please return it to the garage before it requires a mechanic. We will keep you informed of our progress as it changes."

He thought about what he said slowly then nodded, getting off the ground. First and foremost, Dick had to get his head back together. Then he could think about what he could do to save his brother.


	15. Investigation

Dick waited until ten that night to peek into the cave and see if Batman was still there. Apparently four hours was all the man needed to get what he could from the skateboard, note, and phone call from earlier. Good. After an hour of losing it and getting himself to calm down, he didn't really want to wait to see what he could do. Three hours of trying to keep occupied while worried out of his mind was torture. Was this how Bruce and Alfred felt when he was kidnapped as a kid?

Either way, he was not taking a step back from this case. Tim was his successor, his brother. Dick was trained by both the world's greatest detective and greatest tactician, been introduced to both criminals and heroes. There could be something he would see Batman wouldn't, a way he could deduct something that man couldn't. All he had to do was look.

First thing he did after sneaking into the cave was get on the computer and see what his former partner had already discovered. Prints weren't in the system from either the note or the skateboard. The ones on both were either partials or smudges indicating gloves anyway. There was DNA (saliva) on the note, proving they had Tim. The paper was common printer paper available at any store and the ink from a standard black sharpie. No other forensic evidence could be found on the two items. The skateboard was washed and scrubbed prior to delivery with common cleaners, disguising even where it last was.

The phone call Bruce received at the office directing him to the manor doorstep was sent through a satellite scrambler, making tracing impossible. The recording of the conversation had a voice modulator, hiding the captor's identity even further. Diction was good, but no cultural accent depicting what English speaking area the person was from. All he could get from it was male, adult, under sixty. Speech pattern suggested military, but he knew people who lived in militaristic ways and never set foot on an army base.

Whoever did this was good at covering their tracks. They did this before.

Glaring at the evidence reports for a moment longer, he looked over to other data Batman had put together. Tim's route from the school to Wayne Tower. He must have verified that he wasn't abducted from school and had attended classes first then figured out how the kid would make it to him afterwards. Retracing the victim's steps. Following the trail of your prey. The lessons were far too similar.

Dick rubbed his eyes, trying to push back the similarities between Slade's and Bruce's lessons growing up and focus on the problem at hand. Tim. Where did the bad guys pick him up? How? Had to be somewhere no one would see or look. Most people reported a child abduction if they saw one. Even common criminals would drop an anonymous phone call to the cops when a kid was taken against their will. Human nature was to protect them after all. Even Slade drew the line when a target was a child. Helped take down human trafficking once.

Looking at the bus routes closest to Tim's school along with timing, he agreed with Bruce's reasoned route between locations. There were a few alleyways along the way, easy grab spots. If there was an obstacle put in Tim's way forcing him to take a slight detour through one, it wouldn't be that difficult to grab him. He hadn't slept in 36 hours minimum, his mind probably wandering as he made his way to the bus stop. Personal awareness would be down, and as Tim Drake and not Robin, he'd have to respond a certain way...

Who was he kidding? Tim nearly had a year of training, most of it in the cave, not in the field. He didn't have the reaction time or instincts he and Bruce already developed. He was a normal kid who liked gymnastics and karate and took classes like anyone else until he pushed his way into the Bat's life. Less than a year. All he could be, in his condition, was a slightly more dangerous teenage boy than the norm. Had he a full night's sleep before, he would have been able to escape capture. This Robin didn't have a prayer of beating his predecessor in a fight, just evade capture and severe injury. What chance did he have to take down well prepared kidnappers in broad daylight without any gear?

No wonder he was caught. This was a disaster.

"Probably got knocked out right after being grabbed," he murmured to himself. "Wouldn't take much after being up that long. At least now we know where he was taken from. What other clues did they leave us?"

He tapped over to the next screen, returning to the note. He saw the forensics readout of it earlier but didn't see the actual message until now. He was about to read it when something popped out at him at the bottom of the page. Instantly he was on his feet, gaping at the signature symbol. A program to the side was looking it up through several databases (which would take hours) but he knew it instantly. "Ah cripes. We're in big trouble now."

Quickly he scanned over the note, muttering to himself. "Million dollars in non-sequential bills... black duffle bag... 48 hours from phone call... work with Drake Industries... both payments required for safe return or you will never see Timothy Drake again. Yeah, it's them. Same MO."

Breathing out slowly, he tried to calm his heart as he typed in a series of names and aliases. If this thing could get a hit on a location for one of them, he knew he could find the kidnappers. While the computer worked through the list, he ran to the armory and started rifling through it. He'd need something to wear, and plenty of supplies.

"And just what do you think you're doing young man?!"

Dick visibly jumped at Alfred's voice. He hadn't heard him talk like that in years, nor been glared at like that... ever. That look was what he gave Bruce whenever he insisted on going out on patrol when he was still recovering from massive blood loss. Robin never got that look because he was a good little boy who stayed in bed when injured, and ran out of it as soon as the man's back was turned.

So defying him and acting like Batman a bit, must have been the next step on the ladder to adulthood. "Looking for something to wear so I don't get turned into Swiss cheese. Got anything in my size? I think I can make do with one of Bruce's belts but everything else-"

"You're planning on going out there aren't you?" He didn't even bother to answer that one, focusing more on stocking a belt with everything he'd use. Small throwing disks and knives instead of batarangs and birdarangs, a collapsible bo staff, then pretty much everything else Batman normally used. He didn't want his targets to think he was Batman. "Master Richard, we just got you back!"

"And if I don't go out there, we may never find him!" The acrobat snapped a desperate glare to the butler. He had to get Tim back. He couldn't lose anyone else, ever again.

"Do you doubt Batman's abilities? Do you truly think he will fail?" Alfred's shrewd glare bit at his heart, even more than the questions.

"No! Of course not!" Of course he trusted Batman. He was one person he counted on 100%, no matter what fights they had in the past or whether he could face him now. "But there's a whole world out there he doesn't know about! Couldn't even begin to know about! I know how these guys think! I know-"

"Just as much as I do!" The old man's glare just intensified, striking him even more. "Which is exactly why you must stay here! What would happen if someone recognized you and decided Timothy wasn't enough? We cannot lose you again! We cannot..."

Hearing the man's voice falter hurt Dick more than he realized. Looking at Alfred's face, he could see now all the worry and fear he had held back, probably from the day he ran away five years ago. After everything he put his family through, how could Dick let himself leave like this?

Severely chastised, he set the belt he was working on to the side and stepped away from all those dangerous toys. Alfred visibly relaxed as he came towards him. "Alright. I'll wait here."

That earned him a smile and a nod. "Very good Master Richard. Now, what was it you discovered while prowling the computer?"

"Not so much from the computer than the note, and more of remembered." They started walking to the giant contraption, butler guiding the way. "Like I said before, there are things I've seen Bruce never would."

"Well then. We better-"

Dick caught the old man before he hit the floor, out cold. While following him to the computer, he pinched a nerve on his neck, knocking him unconscious in the nicest way possible that wasn't drug related. Carefully he picked up and carried his near grandfather to the infirmary so he could get a well-deserved rest. He even took off the man's shoes and tucked him under the covers, looking over him sadly.

"Sorry Alfred, but I have to do this. I swear, I will come back, with Tim. With any luck, we'll be back before dawn."

The computer beeped, revealing the information he requested. The young man jerked his eyes towards the screen, glaring slightly. He had work to do.


	16. Photoshoot

WARNING: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT. T RATING NOW EXPLAINED. because robins are so much fun to torture *evil laugh*

* * *

Tim was cold, and his head hurt, a lot. He wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep but he couldn't. It was too cold and he couldn't move very well. He was very uncomfortable and there was something going on in the next room. Something loud.

Wincing at his pounding headache, he tried to put his hand to his head. It wouldn't budge. Experimentally he wiggled his fingers, feeling both sets move fine behind his back, together. Weird. Slowly he opened his eyes, the darkness of the room not hurting his eyes but still surprising him. From what he could see, lying on his side, was a place he didn't know. He was on the hard floor, laying in an egg mattress. His hands were tied behind him tightly, and so were his feet, his knees bent so the appendages were barely out of reach of each other, all tied by one rope. Duct tape covered his mouth.

Panic tried to swell in him but his headache forced that away or contained it for now. His scattered thoughts weren't helping him, or anyone, so he laid his head back down and started taking deep breaths through his nose. Even with his mouth unavailable, he found a way to meditate and control his feelings. They didn't control him, he controlled them. These feelings, these thoughts, were his, but they were not him. He made himself.

It took a few minutes but it was worth it. His headache slowly ebbed away, his heart settled and his thoughts started to organize themselves. This meditation technique helped him when his parents were kidnapped and he was having a meltdown. It certainly would help him there. Soon he was breathing easier and thinking through what had happened to him.

Patrol lasted all night because of a case. He went to school, exhausted. He left on his skateboard to meet the bus so he could get to Wayne Tower. Construction made him turn into an alleyway. Then... a big guy surprised him, grabbing him and locking him in a vice-grip. Two other guys with hockey masks were there, leaner fellows. They said he was the 'double millions boy' and that they'd be ransoming him twice. They said some other things too, but he was being suffocated at the time so he couldn't remember clearly. Something about plans if they didn't pay up?

'_Well good news is, they aren't planning on killing me._' Tim looked around as he thought everything over. '_Bad news, I am still kidnapped and have no idea where I am. And... I'm in my underclothes._'

He had shivered and looked at what he was wearing, his awareness growing with each passing second. His kidnappers had stripped him to his undershirt, boxers, and socks. Was this to make sure he didn't have a tracker on him? Or was it a control mechanism so he would be less inclined to run? Something used to scare him? Well if he wasn't used to running on rooftops and fighting crazies, it might have worked. This teen wonder learned long ago that in the battle of survival, you had to make do with what you had. If he had to fight naked, so be it. He could grab something to wear once he was out of the bad guys' hands.

The teen pushed aside his embarrassment and focused on trying to get out of there. First thing he had to do was get out of those bindings. He tested their strength, seeing if he could wriggle out of them. No give. He wasn't flexible enough to slide his hands over his feet yet, but given the way he was tied and how little give there was, he knew even that option was out. If he could cut the rope keeping him in that position, he could probably force himself to do it. '_Need something sharp... I could really use a light in here. And a blanket._'

He kept looking around the room. Wasn't a large one, mostly made of wood. There was a window, but it was boarded up. The place was in poor condition, but there was no trash. From what he could see, there was only him, the cheap camping mattress he was on, and the door. Not even his clothes.

Tim groaned internally, thumping his head against the ground. He really was in a pickle this time. He could count how many times he'd been kidnapped as a civilian on one hand thankfully, but he hated the whole ordeal anyway. And these guys looked like pros. He was not getting out of this one without outside help.

Grabbing what he could of the rope, he tried to worry at it with his nails, but all he managed to do was make his fingertips raw. They trimmed his nails. Yep, he was stuck.

He had no idea how long he was in that dark room, trying to think of how Batman would find him to occupy his time and stop himself from panicking. But eventually the noise in the other room (TV he figured by how the volume and voices changed frequently, mixed with music on occasion) ended and he could hear footsteps coming his way. Tim was beginning to fall into an uneasy sleep again when the door opened and the light beyond blinded him. Wonderful timing really.

"Is the little princess awake yet?" It was the man who said he was being ransomed twice. He could hear him smiling. "Guess so. Did you know you snore? Well, after we taped your mouth to stop you from talking you did. Boyo! Bring the camera! He's ready!"

'_Camera?_' The first guy came all the way in, yanking a chain above him to turn on a single light bulb. He winced again, stinging tears coming to his eyes. Blast his body's reaction to pain! He turned away from the light to help him readjust but the man grabbed his chin and made him look at his hockey mask.

"Uh uh uh! Eyes front and center pretty boy. And don't you dare look away. It's time for your close ups." Tim looked up into the criminal's dark brown eyes, glaring daggers. This guy was insane, just not the kind he dealt with on a regular basis. He was still smiling behind that mask. "That's better. Boyo, Kiddie, you ready with that film?"

"One sec. Sit him up so we can get a few good shots Bro." The other two men came in, faces covered like before. The smaller one had the camera, working on keeping it together, while the big guy came up from around him and slunk to Tim's side. Firmly grasping his shoulders and forced him upright on knees. The position was a bit painful at first, making him wince again before snapping a glare to the big man. Unfortunately it was exactly what the men wanted him to do.

"Ooo! Good angle!" _click_ Tim glared over to the cameraman, mortified he was making that kind of comment. Even when he was following Batman with his camera he never made those comments. _click_ He was blinded a third time, now with the flash. "Very nice. Now arch his neck the other way. Show his neck curves." The big guy pulled his hair, forcing his head back and away from the camera. He still glared at it, despite the unwanted tears. _click_ "Perfect! This guy would make a great model!"

"I know right?" The first man came up to him again, grabbing his chin upwards. _click_ "Delicate features, fair textured hair and skin, well-toned muscles, he's a prime specimen for a guy his age. Strong enough to be a challenge and feminine enough to tempt someone."

_Click_ "Maybe we should action him off instead," the big guy behind him stated, trying to squish Tim into a better sitting position. He didn't bend easy when tied up and it hurt. "I can think of a few guys who'd pay top dollar for a kid like him."

His heart began to rush, despite all his control earlier. What? Just what were they talking about? Selling him? For what? Why were they taking pictures and looking over him like that? _click_

The leader of the group, 'Bro', shook his head. "Not yet. We may get a bigger payoff from Wayne and the company than selling him straight out. But if they don't both pay up..." A soft, dark laugh came from him and the big guy, sending chills down the boy's spine. He did not like where this was going. Bro looked over him again and sneered behind his mask. "Spread 'em kid. You're not gonna get any more comfortable if you stay stiff like that."

'_What?_' Stunned stiff, the man bent down and grabbed his knees, wrenching them apart. Tim flinched involuntarily at the sudden movement, sore and stiff in more than one area. His rear touched his heels as large hands pulled him down uncomfortably. _click click click_ Without thinking about it, he jerked his eyes to the camera, eyes wide. Just what were they taking pictures of?! An involuntary shudder went through his entire body as everything they said same together in his head. These sick little... _click_

Bro chuckled softly, cleaning closer to him and murmuring in his ear. "If you think it's bad now kid, wait two days. If they don't pay up by then, there won't be anything stopping us. Boyo likes the art behind it all and Kiddo likes the physical aspects. Me? I'll just make you scream."

Tim couldn't stop his trembling as he slid a hand under his shirt and lifted it up for his partner to take another shot. _click_ '_Batman... Bruce... please save me! Quick!_'

_click_


	17. Interrogation

Honestly, he had to admit it. He missed fighting crime in Gotham. Dick had yet to go flying there like he used to, but borrowing one of Batman's motorcycles and clinching the turns like that was pretty fun. Late night traffic was as dead as ever, making his breakneck speeds less dangerous than the normally should be. Scaring the occasional purse snatcher or potential mugger into behaving just by speeding by was fun too. He kind of just missed riding a motorcycle without someone he hated constantly ordering him around in his ear. Slade was bossier than Bruce.

Dick allowed himself a slight smirk as he covered his third bridge. The docks he wanted were on the south island, a good twenty minute drive at that speed. Making sure he didn't cross paths with Batman along the way added another ten minutes to his trip. It was nearly eleven thirty when he reached the edge of the district, just where he needed to be to hide the bike and make the best impression possible.

The acrobat tugged off the helmet that must have belonged to Babs because it was the only one that fit him. His long hair was tied back for once with a rubber band, an old Robin mask glued to his face to protect his identity instead. Earlier he managed to find an old prototype Kevlar/nomex suit, a tights version, and put it on. It must have been too small for Bruce and it was put into storage for reference later at the cave. Thank heavens those two were such packrats; nothing else could have fit him. The uniform was a dark grey with black briefs (Batman standard) and a bit lighter than he was used to working in. Slade may have ditched the cape idea but the plate armor he wore before was heavy. Dick turned the pants inside out to hide the extra protection that'd ID him as Batman's ally. Unfortunately, other than the salvaged suit, old domino mask, and helmet, nothing else there really fit. He had to run upstairs to his closet and grab some boots and gloves Alfred bought him once he had his sizes (overly preparedness wasn't just a Bat trait), both black. The dull yellow belt had to get an extra hole to stay on his hips, so he relied more on the gaps between his skin and his gloves and boots to carry things he knew he'd lose if he weren't careful.

Over all it wasn't a bad outfit. Being in all grey and black with only the belt for color was odd, but he knew he'd get the drop on people easier this way. It just reminded him a bit of the uniform Renegade wore. If there was more time he'd have added his own flare, but there wasn't. He had to get Tim back, asap. Making certain everything was still in place after the ride over there, he nodded to himself and shot off a grapple. This close to his target, he'd have to rely on subtly and stealth.

Taking flight once again, a part of him leapt for joy. Soaring through the air like this was one thing Slade couldn't twist. No one could. Not even Zucco and his parents' deaths could make him fear high places or swinging from rooftops. Racing along them, keeping to the shadows, moving without being seen, these were the highlights of his life. Playing rooftop tag while on patrol would always be a favored memory. Even racing to where his target was supposed to be couldn't be clouded by that madman.

Right then, he was really free.

Minutes passed in a blur as he made his way over to warehouse D17. Dropping onto the rooftop, he glared around its perimeter. Low security. Only one or two men. Not that surprising since Batman wasn't hot on their case, yet. He only wanted one person and he would be visiting that place soon. That was what he could get from the computer, a rendezvous between his target and the smuggler who worked from there. His former mentor knew he was smuggling something and supposed guns.

Boy was he wrong.

It was too soon to break up this ring and one wrong move on his part would force them underground. He only wanted to talk to one man, their contact here. Catching that lout and getting his intel after their meeting was perfectly acceptable, even by Batman's standard. The meeting was to start in a few minutes.

Dick settled on the roof, watching the entrance quietly, waiting for his target to come. In or out of the building it didn't matter. Just a sign he was there and then he'd make his next move.

Twenty minutes later a pudgy balding man in a white suit coat and pink shirt came out of the building, looking very pleased with himself. So was the shadow waiting on the roof. Finally. His butt was going numb. He let the target walk out of sight of the guards near the building before shooting off a line and silently going after him. He followed quietly until they were near the edge of the complex, the man going through a dark narrow shortcut to leave. He couldn't have picked a better spot to get cornered.

The acrobat made certain he heard him drop, startling the creep into a frenzy before tackling him against the wall. "Hello Perdo Gomez, it's your lucky night."

"Wh... who are you?!" Pedro was already shaking in his boots, probably soiling himself already. Weak man... how he could do the things he did was a mystery Dick was better off not solving. "You ain't Batman!"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is I know who you are, and who you worked with. Where are the Napper Brothers?"

The man's eyes widened momentarily, enough to tell Dick he had the information he wanted. "Who?! I have no idea who you're talking about!"

"I hate it when people lie, and you're horrible at it."

"Seriously padre! I have no idea who-"

"Then let me remind you." His eyes narrowed dangerously, bringing back a memory he didn't want to relive too much. It was one time he and his former master agreed on something. "A year ago you and the Napper Brothers worked with Richardo Mendula. He was shot through the skull in Beaufort from a building a hundred yards away, taking a nose dive into his raspberry pancakes. Your friends looked for the shooter for days while the police took their time. They didn't find the shooter, but they were looking into your business. It fell apart without the head honcho, especially when those kids in your cargo mysteriously disappeared. You and the Nappers split what money he had left over and ran away.

"Ever wondered who released the kids?" The man before him became paler and paler with every passing second, the memory coming clearer with every second. Dick hadn't pulled the trigger, Slade had. He just released the children being sold overseas and helped them sneak onto a train out of there. What became of them after that was a mystery he never was allowed to solve, at least until now. "I can arrange for another shooting. Now, the Napper Brothers. Where are they?"

"I... I don't know! I lost track of the-!"

He thrust the pimp against the wall hard. "Wrong answer! Tell me where they are!"

"They aren't in town!"

"LIAR!" Rage boiled through his veins, barely contained. He threw the man against the opposite wall, hard. "They took a fourteen year old boy this afternoon and you know exactly where they are!" He grabbed the slime by his lapels, bringing him close to his snarling face once more. "Where are they?! Where did they take him?!"

"I... I don't..."

"Either you talk to me in one piece, or after losing your hands!" A sharp knife left his boot, one he pilfered from the formal armory in the manor. He held it just right so the light would hit it and terrify the pig in front of him. "Talk!"

He raised the dagger to thrust it at him, glaring death upon the perverted lout before him. Petrified, Pedro squeezed his eyes shut and shouted, "The Glacier Apartments in the Upper West Side! Room 412!"

The knife landed next to the man's left hand, leaving a very shallow scratch alongside it. A well placed near miss. He wouldn't be forgetting this talk. Dick smirked to himself, calming down a bit while the man shook helplessly. '_Gotcha._' He patted the man's face condescendingly. "There. That wasn't so bad."

He patted the man's cheek for a second, getting a scared look from him telling the young man he thought he was crazy. Fine by him. The taps turned into a hard slug, throwing the cretin to the ground completely and probably dislodging a tooth or two. Good. Within seconds he searched the dazed and scared man, taking his phone and car keys. He threw the phone against the wall, shattering it and removing the memory card for later. He tossed the keys into a garbage can on the far side of the alleyway, then picked up his knife.

"Pedro, I'm a fair man. Fairer than most. You have twenty-four hours to return your goods to their homes before the Bat finds out all your dirty little secrets. If you're smart, you'll do the right thing and turn on all your 'friends'. The feds are easier to deal with than Batman, believe me." He towered over the trembling excuse for a human being, using a cool voice he hated once with a passion, but he knew its uses now. A violent person with a perfectly rational voice could be ten times scarier than a demon-esque one shouting at you. "Twenty-four hours. If you haven't done the right thing by then... well I'd wish you luck, but I hate your kind too. Don't try calling them. I know where you live."

Not waiting for any acknowledgement of his threats, Dick shot off a line and soared back to the rooftops. He knew the mess he made of that man would keep him immobile for an hour at least, plenty of time to get to Tim's location. Within minutes he was on the borrowed bike and gunning through traffic.

'_Hold on Tim. I'm coming._'


	18. Rescue

Tim shivered on his pad uncontrollably. It wasn't the cold anymore that made him shake, it was the men in the other room. For at least an hour he'd been forcibly posed in several ways he never wanted to be in again. Thankfully he was still clothed (mostly) but they had exposed and taken shots of _everything_ at one point or another. Full naked shots were apparently forbidden at the moment, but sexy partials were deemed okay. For them.

He had never felt so humiliated or violated his entire life. They hadn't touched anything during the photo-shoot, but it was clear they wanted to. Just to get a rise out of him. They had detached his wrist and ankle bindings from each other for ten minutes to reposition him once and laughed when he fought back. They enjoyed forcing him on his back, hands above his head and mostly exposed at that point, especially when he writhed and tried to get away. Then they turned him around in that position, continually taking snapshots and making him look at the camera.

Tears of shame steamed down his face by the end of it. His shirt was torn but everything was back in place, including the rope keeping his hands and feet together behind him. A few small bruises were forming because of his struggles but nothing more. It was clear these guys knew what they were doing and had done this before. Probably from a professional ring going on for years outside of Gotham. Professionals in kidnapping and...

Shaking with his silent sobs, he continually prayed to whatever powers were out there Batman would come and rescue him soon. He just wanted to go home and forget this ever happened! To pretend it was a bad nightmare brought on by Scarecrow gas! He knew when Batman came these sickos would get what was coming to them; and after he told the police what happened, they'd get even more punishment from the other inmates. He just wanted Batman to get there already and...

"What was that?"

The door had remained open, a taunt the men were using on him, so he could hear their voices clearly now. Boyo had heard something and was curiously looking at the window in the other room. Kiddo, the big guy, just looked over to him from the couch he was watching TV from. "What was what?"

An explosion from the window deafened all of them in one fell swoop, along with taking out the wall it was part of. Boyo was thrown clear across the room and knocked out cold before Kiddo could get to his feet and check it out. "WHAT THE H-!"

Tim looked desperately through the door, hope alight in his eyes. He saw black and grey zoom across the doorway, taking down the large man who kept him down for so long. He could hear fighting and shouts from his remaining kidnappers, including some gunfire and miniature explosions, plus the dull thuds associate with batarangs. Many shouts of pain and cursing followed, most inaudible to his ringing ears from the explosion. But one did pierce the air, turning his hope to dread.

"Who the hell are you?! You aren't Batman!"

Blind panic started to fill him. Not Batman? Then who was it? His thoughts went straight to Deathstroke, the man who threatened to take him away as well over four months ago. No... he didn't want that. But who else could it be? Joker? Two-Face? Killer Croc? His terrified mind kept reeling as the fighting stopped and footsteps came towards his room. His heart stopped when he saw the man in the doorway.

Grey and black costume. Yellow utility belt. Domino mask like his. Long hair in a ponytail. Grim stony jaw going slack when he saw him. "Tim?"

'_Dick..._'

"Thank God." A smile grew on the young man's face, confirming who he thought the man was. Relief flooded him as his predecessor flew to his side, whipping out a knife and freeing his limbs as quickly and painlessly as possible. Within seconds his legs and arms were free and the young man was gently taking off the tape on his mouth. Dick rambled incessantly the entire time. "You're okay. For a minute there I thought I lost you. These guys are merciless. They didn't do anything to you did they? Please tell me they didn't... Better get that tape off your mouth. Why didn't you free yourself earlier? Batman would have had my hide handed to me if I hadn't escaped my bindings before he arrived. Please tell me you're alright Tim. Please!"

Tim couldn't say a word. He just numbly looked up to the young man looking him over, his overly worried big brother. He came. He got over his problems for one night and saved him. The whole couple of days mounted up inside him, memories swirling in his mind painfully overwhelming him. Dick's hands were on his shoulders for support, still trying to find out what happened and how he was doing, worried. He needed his support as a fresh wave of tears flooded down his face.

"Tim?" the acrobat started softly. Before he could try to comfort the boy, Tim flung his arms around him and buried his face into his chest, crying and wailing like a terrified child. Dick was only stunned for a moment before wrapping his arms around the trembling boy and squeezing him tightly in return. He was so scared... humiliated... weak... exposed... Everything hurt inside. Everything.

"It's going to be okay Tim. It's going to be okay."


	19. Saved

Batman raced his car to the location he beat out of Pedro Gomez the instant he heard he was the second person that night demanding answers. It really wasn't a beating though. The first interrogator had done a fair job traumatizing him. Only a handful of people could manage that good of job and been interested in this case. Most had no place in Gotham or did not mean well by asking.

It had taken him six hours to get Tim's location and the name of his kidnappers, including performing forensic tests, tracking down possible leads, and making a mess of Mai Alibye, a bar criminals frequently visited in Gotham. Had he known Dick would be able to identify who took Tim from the beginning, he would have been able to skip most of what had happened that night.

A brief phone call from a peeved Alfred told him he was right in his guess. "Master Bruce, Master Richard is gone. He managed to incapacitate me and leave the cave, taking a few things with him, including a change of clothes and your motorcycle."

"Hm," he grunted, suspicion confirmed. His lead foot became heavier. "Reason?"

"He said he knew the criminal world better than you did and had to help. He was searching for a name on the computer when I came in. A-"

"Pedro Gomez, trader of rare finds and a bookie who sometimes comes through Gotham. Suspected overseas arms dealer."

"Ah. Batman strikes again."

"I just talked to him, half an hour after Dick did. When did he leave?"

"I believe little over an hour and a half ago. Sir, the bike's tracer places him at 2134 S. and 172 W., Glacier Apartments."

"I'll be there soon." His grip tightened on the steering wheel. He told Dick to stay out of it! He was in no condition to apprehend criminals! The young man couldn't even look at him yet and he was running around, beating up low lives, and taking on kidnappers? He was going to get someone killed.

And that was the last thing anyone needed.

Tires screeching to a halt, the Batmobile stopped just short of the condemned apartment building. The room in question had a good vantage point, if it weren't for the new gaping hole where the window should be. Batman's eyes narrowed when he got out of his car and spotted it. Robin's time with the Titans had encouraged sloppy, destructive behaviors like this. They'd have to talk about this later.

Quickly he shot a grapple into the hole, sailing himself through it. Had there been shouts or gunfire, he would have used the stairs, but the fight was clearly over. Seeing three unconscious men with torn hockey masks strewn across the room, he knew he hit pay dirt. The Napper Brothers, professional child abductors. Many of their victims vanished off of the face of the planet, but those who paid the ransom in time were sent home, completely unharmed. Each required a psychiatrist afterwards, but that was to be expected. What Gomez and them had in common was a mystery to him at the moment. Someone else had given him the connection at the bar earlier that night.

He heard some shuffling to the side and whipped out a batarang, ready to strike. He stopped though when he saw Dick dressed in an old prototype suit and mask in the nearby doorway, carrying a trembling and silently crying Tim. The kid was practically bare, holding onto his predecessor for dear life! The original dynamic duo's eyes met for a moment, something that hadn't happened in years, then both of them looked back to the boy.

Batman instantly strode over to them, whipping off his cape to cover his new partner. "I thought I told you to stay home."

"Never was good at obeying orders." Quietly and gently they wrapped the boy up in the cape, murmuring to each other. "Take him back in the car. I need to drive the bike back."

"It has autopilot," the dark knight stated quietly. "You two get in there while I wrap things up here. I'm certain the police will want a word or two with them." The acrobat nodded, holding Tim a little closer as he started moving towards the proper exit to take him to the ground floor safely. His former mentor looked at the men again, noting how the two not caught in the obvious blast, had bruises forming in more vital locations and sharp throwing disks pinning them to things, through their bodies. "Bit brutal weren't you?"

"They aren't just kidnappers." There was a hateful edge to the young man's voice, something he hadn't heard in him since Zucco. Batman looked at Dick as he left the room, then to those unconscious around it. Tim was positively petrified, not even acknowledging his presence when he arrived. He was clinging very strongly to the one who saved him.

Not just kidnappers indeed. One of the men started to stir, giving him reason enough to deliver a strong kick into his body, knocking him clear out once again. He only wished he got there first to deliver the message.

Don't touch his boys.


	20. Bedside Manner

It was three am before Tim finally managed to fall asleep. Alfred had suggested a sleep aid after he came out of the shower and changed into his favorite pajamas, but he refused, saying it'd only make nightmares worse. Dick had to agree with the kid on that and volunteered to stay with him until he fell asleep or Bruce came in. He was playing bodyguard ever since he found the boy, and he took some comfort in it.

Sitting at the boy's bedside now, he could think about everything clearly again. Earlier he was so caught up in his emotions and rattled thoughts he was useless. Then he became dangerous. It was like Slade's threat all over again but twenty times worse. Before, in his slightly unhinged mind, he was trying to stop something from repeating itself. This time he was furiously protecting his family. The possibility of losing Timmy shook him to the core, and he only knew him for a few months. Was this how Bruce and Alfred felt the first time he was kidnapped? Every time he was?

Maybe it was worse for him now because he knew exactly what was going to happen to his brother if they didn't get there in time. Clearly something had happened in those hours of captivity, enough to scare him this badly, but nothing too drastic. The way he clung to him and didn't turn away from Batman and Alfred was proof enough of that. Their mentor had helped Tim get to his feet earlier, encouraging him to start walking when they got out of the car. He still clung onto Dick though as they went into the manor, giving Batman time to change and start calling certain people who had to know about Tim's status. Leslie would be coming when the sun was up, and Commissioner Gordon with an FBI agent an hour later. Needless to say the kid would not be going to school tomorrow.

Dick mulled over his thoughts for a while, watching the teen as he slept. He was safe, the perpetrators were in custody (and the hospital), and the next person who thought the boy was an easy target would think twice about it. But the job wasn't done yet. There was still something he had to do, his last part in this case.

He was lost in his thoughts when the door opened and Bruce came in. The young man didn't realize he was there until he felt his hand on his shoulder, startling him slightly. A slight panic came to his eyes when he realized they were in the same room again. He'd been so consumed with worry and anger, focused on helping Tim, that he forgot his shame and fear he had associated with this man. Now it was coming back.

Bruce could sense it in the way he stiffened at his touch, glanced at him once then looked away. It was a good thing he hadn't intended for a heart to heart conversation yet. "Everything's been taken care of. Go get changed and head for bed. I'll stay with him."

Dick nodded once, signaling for the man to remove his hand so he could move. As soon as he was free, he darted out of the room. He could hear the CEO sigh heavily then take his vacated seat as he left the room and went down the hall a bit, making him stop in his tracks.

Why was he acting like this? They were in the same room four times in the past twelve hours and Bruce hadn't done anything to him to warrant fearing him. While in the batmobile he hardly said a word, mostly quick questions to be sure Tim or he didn't need immediate medical attention. In the apartment he only noted how brutal his methods were on the kidnappers, not objected. One of their old arguments was about methods he recalled, so it was slightly ironic that now he was the brutal one. In the kitchen, Dick had hidden while the man talked to Alfred. In each instance, Bruce had delivered orders and he followed, without even thinking about it. He understood the nature of each one and went with it. Not once had he said anything to hurt him.

His head felt light with these thoughts floating through his head. Slowly the acrobat turned and walked back to Tim's bedroom, peeking inside. Bruce was sitting at the boy's bedside, just watching him and guarding him as a sentinel. Vaguely Dick recalled a particularly gruesome kidnapping when he was ten. He had broken two ribs and had a fever because of that and was forbidden from hiding in the man's bed until he was recovered. Alfred was at his bedside to help him fall asleep, but Bruce was always in his place in the morning, snoring slightly.

A slight smile graced his face, seeing now how it was done all those years ago. He watched them for a moment then turned and walked to the cave. He was still wearing that prototype after all, and the case wasn't exactly over yet.


	21. Closing the Case

He prayed the interview was almost over. Dr. Thompkin's checkup was far more tolerable than describing everything that happened to him the previous night to the FBI agent. Having Bruce next to him as a support and Commissioner Gordon there to curb the agent's questions helped, but he really did not want to relive everything over and over again. He couldn't help but shake when he told them of the photo-shoot.

Both Bruce and Gordon looked ready to kill as soon as he mentioned it. Tim could only pray they'd never see those pictures.

The agent only nodded and jotted it down, a grim line for a mouth. "Alright. Can you tell me what else they did?"

Anger and shame boiled inside him as he bit back, "They practically stripped me and took pictures of me in disgusting positions! What more did they have to do!"

"Agent Ferrel! That is hardly an appropriate question!" "How can you ask that!" Both parents snapped at the insensitive man who threw his hands in the air for his defense.

"I have to be as specific as possible to make sure we can lock them up for good. You know this." This shut up the internally raging parents, but both of their knuckles became white as they contemplated hitting the agent and the men responsible a few times. "So far, if we get those photos we can get them for child pornography."

"They said if both Bruce and the company didn't pay up in two days, there would be no limits," Tim stated, trying to control his own rage and trembling at the thoughts. "Boyo was the one taking pictures. Kiddo did most of the... positioning. Bro was..." He could hardly say it, didn't want to say it. It was like reliving every moment over again. "They talked about auctioning me off. Said I'd be top dollar. They did it before. They had the connections. I... I think the photos were going to be teasers... advertisements..."

His throat clamped up, tears threatening to break through again. He buckled over on the couch slightly, eyes firmly fixed on the carpet below him as dark thoughts flooded his mind. What scared him most wasn't what happened, but what would have happened. That photo-shoot was a teaser foreshadowing his future if he wasn't rescued or bought back in time. His imagination went wild with the possibilities.

Bruce's hand went to his back, reassuringly rubbing it. Tim gratefully accepted it, calming his mind a great deal. Bruce was there. He wouldn't let those things happen to him. He would have paid both parts of the ransom if he had to. He was there when he woke up that morning and helped calm him down when he realized it wasn't a nightmare. He'd protect him. Him, and Dick who saved him the previous night.

He was safe.

When his breathing became steady, Bruce spoke to him quietly. "Tell him about the people who rescued you."

Gordon came closer, siting in the couch arm. "Yeah Tim, tell us about who saved you and brought you home."

Both their encouragement helped the teen sit up a little straighter, but he stayed hunched over, not looking at the agent but rather the tape recorder on the coffee table. Bruce kept his hand on the lad's back, calming him more and more by the second. "It was after the shoot, maybe an hour later? Not sure. The window in the other room exploded, knocking Boyo across the room. Some guy in a... some kind of scuba divers suit? He came flying through it and beat up the other two guys. He came into the room I was in and untied me. He stayed with me until Batman got there and helped me get to the Batmobile so he could take me home. I think they knew each other but..."

He ran a hand through is hair, having remembered how they said they'd twist the rescue story perfectly. "Everything's a little fuzzy at that point. I remember riding in the Batmobile, coming here, then running to the door. The rest is all a blur..." The rest really was a blur, adrenalin draining out of him and making his mind a bit fuzzy. He remembered coming home and walking to his room, taking a shower and going to bed after a quick meal, but what was said and exactly what happened blended together. "I remember being carried and holding on to someone but..."

"Can you describe this other man? The one who saved you?" The commissioner was pretty interested in that part. Tim shook his head uselessly, looking at him now.

"Um... Tall? Caucasian I think. He wore a mask like Robin's. And he seriously looked like he was wearing a scuba diving suit without all the other gear. He didn't give a name. He knew mine though. And... I liked his voice."

The agent sighed heavily, reaching for the tape recorder. They were pretty much done. "Alright. I think that's enough for today."

"Will it be enough?" He looked up pleadingly to the agent, hoping he wouldn't have to talk about this again anytime soon. "To keep them locked up?

Ferrel shrugged. "It gives us a lot to go on. Now we need to finish gathering evidence, collaborating stories... You'll have to testify at their trial," Tim whimpered slightly at the idea, chewing his lip, "but that won't be for several months, maybe even a year or two. We will keep your identity confidential and I assure you, those photographs will only be used as evidence in the case. They will not be seen in the public's eye and only a handful by the jury. With any luck, we'll be able to destroy the rest and find other victims because of your testimony.

"Don't worry about a thing Timothy. You're safe now."

The agent gave him what should have been a reassuring smile, but Tim didn't trust it. Gordon's he did though and he gave him a weak one in return. Bruce escorted the two servants of the law out of the manor with cups of coffee in hand (Alfred made certain to put a little salt in the agent's for making the boy uncomfortable), leaving the lad alone for a few minutes.

Safe. Was he really? His mind and heart was still rattled by the memories.

"Tim?" Bruce came back to him from the main entry way. "Something on your mind?"

"A lot. I'm beginning to see how Dick's been feeling this whole time." He looked up to his guardian, confusion and insecurity in his eyes. "For a while there I honestly thought I'd be taken away and forced into a life I didn't want. I was terrified. How can I get past that? I just..."

The CEO came closer to the boy as he looked back to his knees, his voice shaking. "I couldn't do anything to stop them. Couldn't stop myself from getting caught. Every time I tried to fight back, they proved they were stronger, meaner. I have a feeling... they were going to do worse. Much worse. If you two hadn't..."

The man's eyes widened and he took a few more rushed steps forward just as Tim stood up and started walking away, fast. "I'm going to the gym. Got a lot of excess energy to burn off."

"Tim." He was partway to the stairs when he heard his voice, moving fast. He looked over to his mentor and saw the worry, even a spark of fear for him, in his eyes. "You're not weak. They just knew what they were doing this time. We'll work on escaping larger opponents tomorrow, when you're calmer."

The teen took comfort at his words. A small smile graced his features as he nodded and continued on his way. He quickly changed into workout clothes before going into the gym, thinking he'd punch the bag for a while and then work on his upper body strength in peace. Instead he saw Dick already there, doing pretty much what he planned on doing. Apparently he wasn't the only one with too much energy. The guy was pretty much dripping in sweat.

"Hey."

The older bird looked over to him and finished his last move blindly. "Hey."

"Um..." Tim looked at his feet, nibbling his lip shyly. "Thanks... you know. For..."

Dick gave the bag one last strong kick before stopping, looking over to the kid. After a moment he came to him and wrapped his sweaty arms around him, drawing him into a tight hug. Though it was a bit slimy and smelly, Tim couldn't help but return it, clinging to the young man's tank top. He still felt like he would break in two at any moment and wanted to hide from the world. He knew he was safe there, safe and cared for.

"Don't mention it," the tenor murmured after a minute. "It's what family does for each other: get each other out of tight scrapes. Besides," he smirked, getting Tim to look up to him at last, "you already saved me. And Bruce. It's about time we returned the favor."

The kid blinked at him, confused. Seeing the bewilderment in his eyes, Dick laughed, releasing him. "Come on. I'm sure we can take these guys out over here. I've been pounding at them for the past couple hours."

Tim nodded, following him over to the well-worn punching bags. Looking at them he could see the creeps who had taken him the previous day, hate and fear boiling in him. Dick got behind one of them as support just as he took a punch at it. One punch wasn't enough. Before he knew it, the teen was wailing on the thing. Its chains were creaking badly and probably would have broken clear through if Dick wasn't keeping it stable during each blow. Every kick, every punch, every strike, only made him angrier. If only he could have fought them off like this. How could he be so careless!

He kept punching at the thing until his sides ached too much to keep going and sweat clouded his vision. Exhausted, he doubled over, panting and glaring at the bag that was his enemy. He had to beat them. Had to destroy his fear of them. Robin couldn't be a coward, couldn't be weak. He had to-

"Take five baby bird." A towel dropped onto his head, breaking him out of his thoughts. "You're running out of fluids."

Blinking, Tim could only think one thing as he straightened and looked at his predecessor. "Baby bird?"

The young man shrugged, picking up another towel for himself. "Yeah, why not? Wally and Roy used to call me Dickybird all the time, among other names." That gained him a snort, but he grinned and kept going. "I've been thinking about things and believe that if I met Jason, I would have called him Jaybird. Since you're a Robin too, I thought baby bird was perfect."

The teen looked him over as he dried himself off, walking around the damp ground towards him. He really did need a breather. "And when a fourth Robin comes along?"

"Then we pray their name is easy to turn into a bird too." The acrobat smirked. "I debated calling you Timbird, but that just didn't sound right. Timmybird too. Sounded too much like a proper name."

"Aannnddd... that's bad?"

"Is when you're aiming for a demeaning nickname." Tim shook his head, smiling sardonically at the thought. The two of them sat on the seats of the nearby weight machines and started drinking from some water bottles they kept in there. Dick eyed him for a minute quietly before speaking again. "Feeling better?"

The teen shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure, what with the adrenalin and exhaustion from that pounding running through him. "A little."

"Ya know they aren't the only guys like that out there. There's a whole enterprise of human traffickers out there. And even more sick pedos than we can count." Tim started crushing his water bottle as he talked. He didn't want to think about it. Yet the older bird continued. "Batman used to tell me there were cases I wasn't allowed to be part of ever since I was a kid. Only when I saw a dozen or so girls in a basement when I was around your age did I start to understand what he was talking about. As usual I handled the hostages and victims while Batman took down the bad guys and contacted the cops. Captain Gordon had a field day with that case. I was benched for a few days, forbidden from patrol until all of the traffickers and rings were taken out by Bats and the PD. Took about two weeks before I was allowed to fly again."

"So I'm grounded?" He looked over to his predecessor, wondering when he'd get to the point.

He only got a raised eyebrow. "Do you even want to go out right now?"

That stopped him, making the boy shake his head. He didn't think he could think straight in the field right then. Honestly, staying in and working on his escape techniques was ideal at the moment. Dick nodded. "Didn't think so. I didn't either. One of the few times I accepted being benched. I just wanted you to know what was going to happen the next few days. Bruce is going to be very busy, in a good way. And after connecting all the dots on his computer last night, it shouldn't take as long as before."

That brought Tim's eyes back to him, surprised. "Huh?"

Dick merely smirked at his stunned face. "Do you think I honestly went to bed after that? The case wasn't closed yet. Knowing Bruce, he's down there right now looking over everything I pulled up for him. Gotham will be free of those parasites before the end of the month."

"Seriously?"

Confidence warmed the young man's face. "Seriously. Batman won't stop until he can assure you it won't be happening again. It'll be at least a year before anyone even considers starting that kind of trouble here again. Everything's going to be alright. You'll see."

Tim just stared at him for a good long while, his chest lightening with each word. Everything was going to be alright. He was safe from that now. He knew it. Both Dick and Bruce promised it, and they could easily take down those sick bastards, and in time he would be able to as well.

Dick slapped his knee slightly. "C'mon. I'll show you how to get out of that position I found you in last night, then we can work on your flexibility. Can't let the bad guys win by staying down now can we?"

Encouraged, the teen got to his feet and followed his big brother to a dry set of mats to start practicing. No way he'd let those creeps win, ever.


	22. Papers

He stretched his back that night, popping a few things into place as he snuck back into his room. This was the third time he'd vanished from Alfred's radar since returning to Gotham, but this time it was for a frivolous, good cause. Tim had spent the majority of the day either working out, studying, or curling next to him for a movie. Sure Bruce should have been the one he was hanging out with all things considered, but the man was working round the clock to close the case for good. Good old Bruce, doing what he could to reassure his wards without actually being there to help.

After Tim passed out on the couch during their third movie, Dick carried him to bed and tucked him in. Noting that one thing was definitely missing, he snuck into the garage, took a motorcycle and some cash, and drove into the city to pick up something. A well-earned surprise for his kid brother. Only took an hour and it wasn't like he took off the tracking device on it anyway.

Still, sneaking out like that two nights in a row wasn't the best idea in the world. Oh well.

Rubbing a shoulder, Dick decided it was time to actually sleep. He was exhausted, running around for two days without any. Sure they were lazy days with activity scattered throughout them, but he hadn't slept in nearly 48 hours. It was nearly eleven and he desperately needed a shower too. His hands went to his hair to remove the crude rubber band he hastily put in it the other day to keep it out of the way during his search. It wasn't coming off very easily. Miffed, he went to his hardly touched desk and searched the drawers for some scissors. After finding some, he cut the band off and tossed the sheers on top to put away later. He needed a shower.

As soon as he was clean, he came back to it, remembering how much trouble long hair was again. Maybe he should just chop it all off at last. When he picked up the scissors lazily, he accidentally knocked off a file to the floor as well. "Crap."

Sighing, he put the scissors away and started picking up the scattered paper and file that had been on the desk forever. Honestly, it was on the thing so long he couldn't even recall where it came from or what it was. '_Probably an old case or school paper,_' he told himself as he gathered it up blindly, then stopped as a few words popped out to him.

His breath halted, drowsiness leaving him as he stared at the paper. It couldn't be... Slowly he opened the file completely and looked through the papers. He recognized half those documents, and dreamed of the rest of them. There was a fair amount of dust on the folder and the papers were crisp and yellowing, a few years old. Half of the pages were filled out. No, the majority of them. Only a few things more and they could be processed, things like his signature.

Tears threatened to come out of his eyes. How long had they been there? How long... were these real? He needed answers, now. And only one man had them.

Without a second thought, Dick snapped the file shut and darted out of his room, straight to the one who had all the answers.

* * *

Sighing Bruce wrapped a bathrobe around him and ascended the stairs to the manor quietly. Three am and he had to call it a night. He was seeing in threes. Besides, Alfred had reminded him of an important meeting the next day he could not miss. Even if the next day was Saturday, money never rested.

He rolled his shoulders as he made his way back to his bedroom. The man paused for a moment by Tim's door to make sure he was sound asleep. He could hear the teen's usual occasional murmurs through the door, making him smirk slightly. No nightmares. He was a tough kid. Helped Dick stuck with him the entire day and kept his spirits up. Those two were good for each other.

Satisfied he moved on to Dick's room, listening. No screaming, but no movement either. He had calmed down a great deal over the summer, only having terrors once a week if that lately. Mostly he just murmured and tossed in his sleep, how he normally was whenever he was benched in the past. Hearing nothing worried him and he opened the door to see if he was alright.

The bed was empty.

His heart leapt to his throat, fearing the worst for a moment but stopped when he saw a new shopping bag on the young man's bed. Odd. Why go out and buy something then runaway again? Deciding Dick had to be somewhere else in the manor, he checked Tim's room again. Poking his head in, he only saw the one boy sleeping. Quietly he slipped back into the hallway, thinking through other possibilities. The cave was empty except himself earlier, the kitchen light was off when he looked that way, so that left the gym and the roof, two places he couldn't really go to without scaring the lad further.

He sighed to himself, turning back to his bedroom. His former partner, his son in nearly every way but blood, was still scared to be with him. Dick fled from him once Tim was safe, only looked at him once during the whole fiasco. If he wasn't so damn scared of him for no logical reason, they could have collaborated on the case and rescued Tim sooner! If only...

He stopped just short of his bedroom door, staring at the light peeking through the cracks. A scowl came to the detective's face. Just what was going on now? Cautiously he opened the door and spotted Dick sitting on the bed's edge, looking at the ground in thought. His hair dangled slightly in front of his face, making him look a lot like a girl. Just what was he doing there? The master bedroom wasn't even on his list of possibilities, not at his age and certainly not in the state he was in.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the young man as he turned his head towards him silently. "If this is something Wilson made you do, I want no part of it."

That made the lad roll his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he picked up a file off the bed and approached him. "I found this on my desk."

Seeing it, the man's heart skipped a beat. "Ah."

"Ah? Is that all you have to say? Ah?" For once Dick was trying to get him to meet his eyes. There was some annoyance in his voice, along with some desperation. "Bruce I saw the dates on these papers. A year before I left?! How long were you planning on holding onto these adoption papers?!"

"I was..." Bruce didn't know what to say. Six years ago he had signed and dated those adoption papers, trembling and not knowing if Dick would accept him as his father legally. The following day they had a fight and the file was set aside until they could reconcile. But there were so many fights after that and the file became buried under a pile of others.

The following year, when he had fired Robin in order to protect his son, he unearthed them and prayed they'd be a peace offering between them, something that'd make the purpose of his actions clear to the boy. Instead Dick ran away to Jump before he could try to talk about it.

He put the file on Dick's desk in hopes he'd see it when he visited his parents' graves or Alfred, so they could finally talk about it. A year passed without a visit and Slade took him. He was not intending to wait six years to have this talk.

"Was what?" He couldn't say a word, again not sure what to do. It was always that way for him when it came to Dick and wanting to draw him close. He just wasn't sure how. The young man spoke instead. "Bruce, do you have any idea how many years I waited to see these? How horrible it was to just be your ward?"

"You were never just my ward Dick," the man spouted back, trying to make up for lost time. Even before adoption became an option, Bruce had willed everything to him and Alfred. He didn't need either's permission to do so and the next revision included Jason, keeping them.

"Maybe not to you," he admitted, "but in the public's eye, I was just a charity case. I took what they said to heart."

That stung, remembering how often it was said when people thought he wasn't listening, along with all those rumors about the two. "You shouldn't have listened to them."

"Then you shouldn't have waited so long to draw these up!" He shook the pages in front of his eyes, emphasizing his point. Dick couldn't know how right he was, and how much the guilt of inaction ate at the man. "I was a kid! What other people said mattered to me! And being adopted meant a hell of a lot more than being a ward! Once I turned eighteen it was over! I knew it and they knew it! And I..."

He looked down, tears stinging in his eyes. "I didn't want it to be over. I didn't want... Bruce I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want to lose another father."

The word hung in the air between them, a title never given to Bruce officially until then. A spark of wonder lit itself inside the older man, giving him courage to voice what had stopped him before. "I... I wasn't sure if you'd want me to be your father Dick. I couldn't replace John Grayson, and I didn't know how to ask you to be my son as well."

Dick looked up at him, hope alight in them as he continued to speak. "Back when I took you in, the law wouldn't allow for me to adopt you. All I could do was make you my ward. They've changed the laws since then and those were drawn up immediately after. I wanted to talk about it several times, but we were fighting... I didn't know how to ask. Or if you'd want me for a father anymore."

It was Bruce now looking down, feeling rather awkward about the whole thing. His ward was watching his face in surprise. They stood in silence for a moment before he broke into a broad smile, chuckling lightly. "Bruce, you want to hear something funny?" The detective flashed his eyes up to him in confusion as he continued. "Right after my first heist as Slade's apprentice, he told me that I may one day see him as a father to me.

"My immediate response was that I already had a one."

His mentor blinked, looking at his boy with wonder in his eyes. Dick continued, smiling the same devoted loving smile he gave him as a child. "He never took your place once in those years. You may not be my dad by blood, but you've earned the right to stand next to him. You're a lot more than just a dad to me Bruce. Always have been, always will be."

Ignoring logic and propriety, the yearning parent wrapped his arms around the young man he raised since his parents' deaths and held him close. The lad was stunned for a moment before returning the embrace with equal vigor, a silent tear running down his cheek. Shakily he asked the question he was holding back all those months. "Are... you mad at me? Do you hate me... for all those things I've done? All those crimes?"

Bruce shook his head. "Never. You did them to save others. You were manipulated, and still did everything you could. The blame falls on Slade alone. You just need to forgive yourself."

He could feel Dick relaxing fully in his arms, finally at ease after all these months. And so was he. His son... His son was finally home.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, taking comfort in the constant uneasiness they had between them finally being removed. No more misunderstandings, no more guilt. Just comfort. The mood broke though when Dick spoke. "Question."

"Hm?"

He brought the file back into view. "Are these still good? They're six years old and don't you need a lawyer and notary present when signing them? Or some kind of witness?"

That gained a half laugh from the man, releasing his boy slowly. "Good question."


	23. Back

Tim yawned and stretched as he came down stairs to the breakfast table. He slept surprisingly well the previous night. Knowing those that hurt him were going up the river and all their friends as well helped, but so did wearing himself out and watching a lot of happy-feel-good movies. Dick knew every single line and song in the Disney ones too, and sang along on occasion. Bit annoying when he had his head on the guy's chest and he was trying to pay attention to the show, but it helped him fall asleep too. When he became so cuddly he didn't know, but for some reason snuggling up to his brother was very comforting the other day. He only wondered what that day had in store for him.

Well it was Saturday. Coming into the kitchen to use the small table there to eat like usual, he was surprised to see Bruce sitting there with coffee and a paper, a half-finished plate before him. Wasn't he out late the other night? He was wearing a suit... some board meeting? Tim was pretty out of it the other day so he probably missed out on some crucial piece of information. "Good morning."

"Hm." The big man inclined his head towards him in acknowledgement, drinking some more caffeine. Must have gotten up within the past half hour. The guy had pretty low blood pressure when he woke up.

"Good morning Master Timothy." Alfred was at his usual post, cooking up a delicious breakfast for everyone. "How would you like your eggs? Scrambled? Omelet?"

"How about French toast?"

Tim jerked around in surprise, really not expecting that voice so early in the morning, and certainly not when Bruce was in the same room. Dick stood in the doorway, one hand behind his back and grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "I'll take mine with strawberry jam, Kent brand preferably. He still sends over the extras?"

"Hm. Alfred hasn't figured out how Martha does it yet." Bruce flipped pages, not looking up at the voice at all. Tim and Alfred looked between the two in shock, noting how casual both of them were, as if the past four and a half months of awkward and avoidance never happened. No... almost as if the past five years didn't exist. They looked at each other, mentally asking each other what on Earth happened.

Dick chuckled fondly. "Well you know those old time farmer wives. Never give out the full recipe. Ever had some Timmy? It's really good stuff."

"I... ah... what the..." He dumbly pointed between the two of them, more than a little confused. "Did I miss something?"

The young man laughed again, much lighter than he'd been in a long time. "Oh yeah. Lots. One being a normal childhood and another being Superman's mom's strawberry jam. Catch!"

Without warning he flung something large and brown at Tim's face. The boy fumbled catching it, getting a face load of soft and fuzzy at the same time his hands came together. When he opened his eyes and got a better look at it, he just stared at it, blinking. What?

"Hm. Need to work on that reaction time," Bruce murmured before sipping his coffee.

Dick was grinning from ear to ear, unnecessarily proud of himself. "Happy Birthday!"

"It's not my birthday." Tim continued to stare at the thing in shock. What?

"It's a late present for the thirteen years I missed okay?" He pouted dramatically, folding his arms as if he were making a point. Very childish.

"Okay..."

"Master Richard! Must I remind you not to throw items in the kitchen?" The slightly irked butler was coping with the sudden changes a lot better than their youngest there was.

This made the young man a bit shamefaced. "Sorry Alfred..."

Numbly the boy started talking again. "It's... a raccoon."

"It's a dog!" Dick objected loudly.

"Looks like a raccoon." In Tim's hands was a stuffed animal, just large enough to hug or use as a pillow but small enough to toss around. Brown with large upright black years, paws, and a domino-like mask over its beady red-brown eyes. It did look somewhat like both creatures, but the tag attached to it said 'dog'.

"I got one with a mask to make it more mysterious." The acrobat put his hands on his hips a bit perturbed.

That got the boy's attention. "When did you get it?"

"Last night after you fell asleep." He grinned, proud of himself again. "You were so cuddly when we were watching movies, I thought you deserved to have a little friend with you when you slept. Isn't he cute? Or are you more a cat person?"

Pretty much speechless, Tim just looked at the toy then to Dick. Eventually he looked over to Bruce who spotted his taken back and confused face, and shrugged as if there was nothing he could do or didn't care to make a move either way. It only confused him even more. What was going on?

"I can always exchange it for a cat." The deflated tone in the young man's voice jerked him out of his daze.

"Ah... no! It's just... I've... I've never had a... Wow... uh... thanks..." The boy still didn't understand what was going on around him. Dick and Bruce in the same room. Communicating even. Dick overly cheery, genuinely happy. Getting a stuffed dog. Wasn't Tim supposed to be getting breakfast before going and doing his morning exercises? What happened after he went to bed?!

His brother smiled again, clapping him on the shoulder. "Not a problem! Now you can't make fun of me and Peanut anymore. You're even hugging it."

"I'm not..." Looking down he realized he was hugging the toy. Turning red, he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with the thing. What was the proper procedure with having stuffed animals in the kitchen anyway? "Ah..."

"So what are you gonna name him?" Dick started leading him to the table to sit down, still grinning.

"I... don't... Ah..."

"I think you blew a circuit Dick." Bruce raised an amused eyebrow, looking over his paper at the two. A little guilt came to the young man's face as he looked over Tim again as they took their seats.

"Did I? Whoops."

"You both did." Alfred placed two empty plates before the boys along with some silverware, giving his first two charges a chiding glare. "The way you two are behaving this morning in compare to the past few months is mind boggling. Pray tell, what occurred for this dramatic change?"

"Yeah... What Alfred said..." It was still impossible for the boy to get his head wrapped around. He was only clinging to the toy because he was really confused and it was the only thing besides the butler that made sense. Clinging to Alfred was a no-no, especially when he was working. What was going on?

Bruce and Dick exchanged knowing looks, even smiling a bit. Eventually the head of the household closed his paper and started speaking. "We had a talk. Figured a few things out, cleared the air, and agreed to move on."

"So how long will it take to get a new set of papers drawn up?" Dick asked, snapping Tim completely out of his daze. Papers? As in...

"I'll have to talk to my lawyers again and find out," he murmured, slightly pouting. "With any luck they'll have forgotten me asking for them six years ago."

"Six..."

"What? That easily embarrassed?" The acrobat grinned impishly. Bruce merely rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Wait... Let me get this straight." Tim winced as he tried to sort everything out. "Six years ago, you drew up adoption papers... and never mentioned it until now?"

"_I_ didn't bring them up," Bruce stated, finishing what was on his plate.

"I found them on my desk last night," Dick explained. "Then we talked. Apparently they've been on my desk since I left for Jump, waiting for me."

"Well," Alfred started, bringing over a large pile of French toast over and setting it before the two boys along with a bottle of homemade jam, "allow me to say what others will. It's about damn time. Waiting nearly eleven years for the two of you to finally acknowledge what the rest of us knew since the beginning. The two of you were always good for each other, as father and son."

Blinking, the young man looked at him, unsure. "Did people really see us that way? I always thought they..."

"You were listening to the wrong people," the old man stated evenly. "Anyone who knew you could tell you were family."

"Or a married couple," Tim murmured in a barely audible voice, thinking of how they were playing off of each other with such eased. They really were acting like a dynamic duo, very different and yet worked so well together. No wonder they were the greatest crime fighting team of all time.

Both men choked on what they were eating, making it clear they heard what he said, and did not appreciate it. Dick gently tossed his fork on his plate. "Okay, I just lost my appetite."

"That was not what I meant," Alfred murmured, though amused.

"Tim," a dangerous tone entered Bruce's voice, all business, "organizing the small time rogues files on the computer while I'm gone. Same filing order as the Arkham inmates. And I want it done before I get back to start on those escape tactics I told you about."

The kid turned beat red, ducking his head a bit as he was properly chastised. He didn't think they would hear him. "Yes sir."

His reaction gained a chuckle from his big brother and a satisfied nod from his mentor. "You really need to think before you say anything Timbo. I know you didn't mean anything by it, but that just sounded so wrong!"

"Heh... Sorry." Abashed, Tim looked at his strange slapped together family, marveling at how they all were. It was a bit strange thinking of them as family, but that's what they had become. Especially Dick. That guy had really risen from the ashes, much more confident than he was when they first started talking nearly five months ago. And in the process they became close. As far as he was concerned, they were more than just friends.

They were brothers. Birds of a feather.

"So... um..." He looked at his breakfast, serving himself a few pieces of French toast as he mulled it over. "What are your plans now?"

Dick blinked, caught between chewing and swallowing (his appetite clearly hadn't quite left him). As soon as he swallowed, he looked like he might choke on the answer. "Good question."

What was he going to do now?

**_TO BE CONTINUED IN TAKING FLIGHT_**

* * *

A/N: Thus ends the initial recovery story! Thank you all for reading thus far. 'Taking Flight' is still in the works, but not for much longer! Once it's done, I'll be posting it quickly. ^^V

Now for notes. This was always just supposed to be a recovery story, so the thing with Tim and the photos, that was a bit unexpected for me. It's largely inspired by Xenith's 'Juvenile Delinquent' (which is awesome! course she's awesome) so read it to get a feel for why I did it. It was largely used as a foil to get Dick to the later stages of recovery. I really think that with everything that happened with him during the time he was with Slade (i have a rough idea but I don't think I'll have a separate story for it, sorry) he'd need at least four or five months to open up. Now he's opened up and is really starting to heal. The last bit of healing though won't take place for another year. Fun times!

I've tried to answer everyone's questions as the story progressed so I don't know what else to say. Just keep an eye out for the end of the Trilogy (which is currently called Dead Inside, but I don't like that title. Please change!) 'Taking Flight' as it will lead on to the next phase of Dick's life. Also, I have a poll on my profile for my constant readers/fans. Please read!

Until next time! ^^V


	24. NOTICE

'Taking flight' is now up. Please stop following this one and start following the next. If you haven't stopped following 'Dead inside' please do so now. And remember, I still have a poll on my profile. Enjoy!


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